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New England Magazine 

Vol. XLIX MARCH, 1913 Number 1 

Our Firesides 

HOW much of the beauty of our 
beautiful New England per- 
tains to the fireside glow of 
the old homestead? All in all, 
though as an artist less masterly than 
others, Whittier is our most indigenous 
poet, and " Snow Bound " his most charac- 
teristic utterance. We make no apology, 
therefore, for breaking our series of 
out-of-door views by a number illustrated 
throughout with in-door New England 

The charm of the New England fire- 
side, what is it? It is not in the curling 
smoke-wreathes, nor the snapping flames, 
nor the dying embers of redolent wood. 
We have all seen this imitatively carried 
out to the last detail. Let us look for it 
rather in the honest thrift and industry 
from which its cheering abundance flows. 
When each member of the household 
justifies his or her place by some active 
and useful toil, there arises mutual re- 
spect and a reverence for individuality 
that cannot be transgressed. An at- 
mosphere of idealism envelopes all, and 
lends to each familiar word and act the 
sweetness and beauty of poetry. 

These are qualities, happily, not de- 
pendent upon the size of the hearth nor 
the fuel consumed thereon. They are 
not at all ashamed to come as near to 
radiators as to open fireplaces. It is 
the get-rich-quick schemer, with his showy 
and spendthrift ten-dollar-a-cord wood 
fire in a costly fireplace, that drives from 
his doors the individual sanctities upon 
which the home is built. 




grandmother's attic treasures 
the old four-poster 









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Editorial Foreword 

The New England Magazine lake- a special pleasure in publisl 

the following article by Mr. John F. Moors, the concluding I whit 

appear next month. 

Mr. Moors is a well-known Boston banker, of the firm of Mo 
and is a prominent and active member of the State-created Boston I 
Commission, which exercises large control over Boston's expenditures. 

These positions in Boston's commercial life attest Mr. Moor.-'- 
and thorough way of examining any project he may take up. Hi 
judgment, therefore, is entitled to every credence as having been reached 
by the most careful method, and as containing only facts and cone 
which, owing to what Mr. Moors ascertained, there was no escape. 

The persistent attacks on the New York, New Haven & Hartford R 
road, during the last six years have exercised a very disturbing influence in 
New England, and have unsettled many holders of railroad securities Mr. 
Moors began his investigation largely in the interest of such of hi 
as were stockholders of the New York, New Haven & Hartford. That he 
making an investigation was unknown to the railroad people. He felt that it 
was highly important to get at the truth. 

The revelations in Mr. Moors's article are startling. There can be no doubt 
that the business interests in New England will be grateful to Mr. Moors for 
the time he has given to his investigation and the fearlessness with which he has 
faced and placed his facts. 

The attitude of The New England Magazine is entirely non-partisan. 
Its pages, therefore, are open to any statement of the other side of the case that 
is equally sincere and authoritative. 

Betraying New England ! 


Gulliver New England 
The Pigmies at Work 

IT is doubtful if the average citizen 
of New England adequately un- 
derstands the real motive of the 
attacks made in recent years 
on the New York, New Haven & 
Hartford Railroad Company and its 
allied lines. All have been directed 
against President Mellen, and the real 
purpose of these attacks may perhaps 
rest forever within the minds of those 
who have made them. 

Would the gentlemen who have led 

these attacks have New England's 
progress retarded? 

Would their aims include disaster 
to New England? 

These are the thoughts which have 
naturally been awakened by the oppo- 
sition to the railroad system, which 
within the last ten years has made for 
tremendous progress in the New Eng- 
land states. 

The leader in the fight against the 
transportation system of New England 

Editorial Foreword 

The New England Magazine takes a special pleasure in publi 
the following article by Mr. John F. Moors, the concluding part of whic 

appear next month. 

Mr. Moors is a well-known Boston banker, of the firm of M' 
and is a prominent and active member of the State-created Boston I 
Commission, which exercises large control over Boston's expenditures. 

These positions in Boston's commercial life attest Mr. Moors'* 
and thorough way of examining any project he may take up. His e: 
judgment, therefore, is entitled to every credence as having been reach< 
by the most careful method, and as containing only facts and conclusions froi 
which, owing to what Mr. Moors ascertained, there was no escape. 

The persistent attacks on the New York, New Haven «S: Hartford B 
road, during the last six years have exercised a very disturbing influence in 
New England, and have unsettled many holders of railroad securities. Mr. 
Moors began his investigation largely in the interest of such of his customer? 
as were stockholders of the New York, New Haven & Hartford. That he 
making an investigation was unknown to the railroad people. He felt that it 
was highly important to get at the truth. 

The revelations in Mr. Moors's article are startling. There can be no doubt 
that the business interests in New England will be grateful to Mr. Moors for 
the time he has given to his investigation and the fearlessness with which he has 
faced and placed his facts. 

The attitude of The New England Magazine is entirely non-par: 
Its pages, therefore, are open to an}' statement of the other side of the case that 
is equally sincere and authoritative. 

Betraying New England! 


Gulliver New England 
The Pigmies at Work 

IT is doubtful if the average citizen 
of New England adequately un- 
derstands the real motive of the 
attacks made in recent years 
on the New York, New Haven & 
Hartford Railroad Company and its 
allied lines. All have been directed 
against President Melle.n, and the real 
purpose of these attacks may perhaps 
rest forever within the minds of those 
who have made them. 

Would the gentlemen who have led 

these attacks have New England's 
progress retarded? 

Would their aims include disaster 
to New England? 

These are the thoughts which have 
naturally been awakened by the oppo- 
sition to the railroad system, which 
within the last ten years has made for 
tremendous progress in the New Eng- 
land states. 

The leader in the fight against the 
transportation system of New England 



is Mr. Louis D. Brandeis, who is 
prominently mentioned as a possible 
member of President-elect Wilson's 
cabinet. It is time that specific 
information and an analytical chro- 
nology of these attacks should be set 
forth in order that all New Englanders 
should be aware of their nature. 

The First Attack 

Mr. Louis D. Brandeis began his 
attack on the New York, New Haven 
& Hartford Railroad, and on its 
president, Mr. Charles S. Mellen, in 
June, 1907. At that time he was 
counsel for the Lawrence family of 
Medford, large, and until then, in- 
fluential holders of Boston & Maine 
stock. This is the interest which 
Mr. Mellen clearly had in mind in his 
recent "two-column statement," in 
which he charged that the attacks on 
the New Haven road originally sprang 
from his refusal to pay an exorbitant 
price for a particular block of Boston 
& Maine stock. There can be no 
doubt that at the outset of his attack 
Mr. Brandeis was counsel for the Med- 
ford Lawrences. The Boston Herald 
of June 11, 1907, said, "Mr. Brandeis 
appeared [at a legislative hearing] in 
behalf of the Lawrence interests of 
Medford and of the Veterans' Associa- 
tion of the Lawrence Light Guard." 
The Boston Globe of June 19, said, 
"Louis D. Brandeis, who represents 
the Lawrence interests in opposition 
to the merging of the Boston & Maine 
Railroad with the New York, New 
Haven & Hartford system."' On June 
20 the Globe said, "The only vote 
passed was one to notify Louis D. 
Brandeis, who is counsel for William 
B. Lawrence, a large Boston & Maine 
stockholder." Even more conclusive 
is the following from the Boston Globe 
of June 19: "Hon. William B. Law- 
rence, of Medford, when asked if he 
cared to make any comment about 
the speaker's bill, said that, inasmuch 
as Mr. Brandeis had spoken and as the 
latter was his legal representative." 
Whatever doubt may be felt as to Mr. 
Brandeis's present position, there can 

be no doubt that in June, 1907, he 
was counsel for the interests repre- 
sented by Mr. William B. Lawrence. 

The position of that gentleman at the 
time thus becomes pertinent. One of 
the prime reasons, as then outlined 
by President Mellen, for the merger 
of the New Haven and the Boston & 
Maine railroads was a connection, 
under Boston, of the North and South 
Stations. In June, 1907, having at 
great cost improved the New Haven 
system, he was convinced that the 
great block to further progress was 
the break in transportation service 
at this center. This part of the mer- 
ger plan, still apparently as far as 
ever from realization, must be under- 
stood to grasp the point of view in 
June, 1907, of Mr. Brandeis's princi- 
pal, Mr. Lawrence. 

In the Globe of June 6, 1907, Mr. 
Lawrence expressed great fear of 
watered securities. "The truth is," 
said he, "the water has already been 
prepared [i.e., in the New Haven 
securities] and now the Boston & 
Maine is asked to furnish the soup. 
Our road is a solid, conservative cor- 
poration." "Mr. Lawrence," con- 
tinued the Globe, "dwelt repeatedly 
on the idea that the whole scheme is 
worthy of Jay Gould in the palmy 
days of his railroad operations, and 
that it will mean the exploiting of a 
solid, economically managed road." 
"A man with half an eye can see the 
result of a single union station. 
Rich or well-to-do people from all 
over the country who come to New 
England summer resorts, and who now 
remain awhile in Boston and who some- 
times spend hundreds of thousands 
of dollars in our stores for high-class 
goods of one sort or another would 
simply be switched onto another 
track in going through." "Will such 
a proposition as that be acceptable 
to the business men and the people of 
Boston? I don't think so." 

Acting for a principal with such a 
point of view r and so anxious to have 
the public believe that the Bosto:: ft 
Maine was to furnish the substance 
for the new "soup," and the New 



Haven only the water, Mr. Brandeis 
introduced into the Legislature on 
June 11, 1907, a bill making it a penal 
offence, punishable by fine or im- 
prisonment, for the New Haven or 
for individuals acting in its interest 
to acquire Boston & Maine stock. 
The first attack was thus begun. 

That the merger would be promptly 
effected was taken for granted im- 
mediately after Mr. Mellen had an- 
nounced the proposition. Governor 
Guild sought only to safeguard the 
interests of the state in rates and 
quality of service. The Boston Mer- 
chants' Association sent a public- 
spirited representative, Mr. Jerome 
Jones, to the State House. His chief 
plea was that the word "Boston" 
should not be removed from the Bos- 
ton & Maine cars. Corporation Coun- 
sel Babson, appearing for Mayor 
Fitzgerald, expressed the opinion that 
the proposed merger was legal. The 
New Haven stock to be issued for the 
exchange with Boston & Maine stock 
was listed on the New York Stock 
Exchange. Several Boston & Maine 
directors were elected directors of 
the New Haven. 

On the other hand, the cause of 
Messrs. Lawrence and Brandeis was 
espoused by prominent Democratic 
politicians, notably by Mr. Vahey, 
Mr. Daniel C. Kiley, and Mr. Frank 
J. Linehan, and by Mr. Norman H. 
White, a Republican, who recently 
overshot the mark in attacking the 
New Haven. 

There were elements in the situation 
which made their cause popular with 
the masses. It was then as now 
axiomatic with the average citizen that 
monopoly is a curse. Furthermore, 
Massachusetts had consistently as- 
serted its right to approve or disap- 
prove railroad mergers within its 
borders; yet interests identified with 
the New Haven and with its New 
York or Connecticut bankers had 
bought over 100,000 shares of Boston 
& Maine stock, thereby practically 
assuring control before the Common- 
wealth even guessed that a merger 
was contemplated. 

Mr. Mellen explained his failure 
to inform the authorities of the deal 
on the ground that another road would 
have bought control of the Boston & 
Maine if he had not, that he had to 
work quickly, and after the time had 
expired for the introduction of new 
business into the Massachusetts Legis- 
lature. Pressed as to the name of the 
other road, he said it was the New 
York Central. His final announce- 
ment expressed a desire to co-operate 
for the public good. He was fully 
prepared to have the state protect 
its interests by suitable regulations. 
Both in spirit and to the letter he 
promised to fulfil his promises of 
improved service. "The power to 
control, to regulate, is unquestionable, , ' 
said he. "The creature cannot be- 
come greater than or independent of 
its master." 

Until this time Mr. Mellen had 
been popular in this community. 
He had not only greatly improved the 
New Haven road, but he had been 
friendly in his public utterances. In 
June, 1907, however, he allowed him- 
self to be exasperated by Mr. Law- 
rence and Mr. Brandeis. At the 
legislative hearing of June 11, the 
committee room was crowded. At 
the morning session Mr. Brandeis 
introduced his bill, and Mr. Lawrence 
was the principal speaker. The latter 
said that the Boston & Maine stock- 
holders were in danger of being "sand- 
bagged" by the New Haven. In the 
afternoon Mr. Mellen's statement of 
his own position was clear and con- 
structive, but of Messrs. Lawrence 
and Brandeis he spoke as follows: 

"I listened to remarks this morning 
of a particularly mendacious character. 
I cannot believe that the people who 
have talked on this matter are so 
ignorant as not to know the facts. 
We all know that a six-track railroad 
in New York City is different from a 
double-track railroad in the country. 
When this campaign of mendacity is 
closed, perhaps some gentlemen's good 
faith may be impugned besides mine." 

"Have you read the Brandeis bill?" 
he was asked. 



"I have, I could see but one ob- 
jection to it, — it wasn't strong enough. 
I would amend the bill by requiring 
the New Haven road to sell the stock 
and prohibit any one from buying it. 
That would be most effectual. And 
I'd put anybody in prison who dis- 
cussed the subject." 

After the committee had asked Mr. 
Mellen such questions as it cared to, 
Mr. Brandeis sought to propound some. 
But Mr. Mellen turned on his heel, 
and, saying that he was ready to 
enlighten the committee, but not to 
give ammunition to the enemy, left 
the room, Mr. Brandeis shouting 
after him. 

On June 28, 1907, under the leader- 
ship of Speaker Cole, an act was 
passed allowing the New Haven in- 
terests to hold till July 1, 1908, the 
Boston & Maine stock already bought, 
but without the right to vote or to 
consolidate during that period or to 
control the Boston & Maine. Thus 
in effect the status quo was maintained 
for a year, to allow the Legislature 
time for deliberate consideration of 
the subject. 

Though this was a serious setback 
for the proposition, Messrs. Law- 
rence and Brandeis maintained that 
the act was not sufficiently drastic. 
Mr. Linehan in the Senate called the 
legislation " Mellen's bill." Mr. Vahey 
said, "The action gives Mellen a slap 
on the wrist instead of jail." 

The First Attack — Part Two 

Mr. Brandeis's second attack was 
made in December, 1907, just six 
months after the first. A pamphlet 
then appeared entitled, "Financial 
Condition of the New York, New 
Haven & Hartford Railroad Company, 
and of the Boston & Maine Railroad, 
by Louis D. Brandeis." In form, 
size, and general appearance it re- 
sembled the annual reports of large 
railroad companies, such as are pub- 
lished by the Union Pacific and the 
New York Central Companies, and 
by the New Haven itself. In sub- 
stance the pamphlet is so extra- 

ordinarily inaccurate and misleading 
that it seems hardly possible that a 
man of Mr. Brandeis's intelligence 
could have been the author of it. 
Yet no other name appears on the 
pamphlet. No engineer or ex 
accountant is anywhere quoted in it. 
Mr. Brandeis's name is on the cover, 
on the title-page, and at the end 
(*.*., the foot of page 41, before various 
tables and appendices). He is clearly 
responsible for the publication of this 
document and for what it says. 

The main proposition in the docu- 
ment is that the New Haven had 
become under Mr. Mellen's manage- 
ment a very weak company, while 
the Boston & Maine had beci. 
coming a strong company. The New 
Haven's debts had swollen, its revenues 
for the stockholders had decrease 
bookkeeping had become lax, while 
the condition of the Boston & Maine 
had steadily improved. This i s in 
keeping with Mr. Lawrence's assertion 
six months earlier. 

The foundations for the proposition 
are unsound. Mr. Brandeis has two 
summaries in italics, one preceding 
his analysis of the New Haven, show- 
ing its weakness, the other preceding 
his analysis of the Boston & Maine, 
showing its strength. In the New 
Haven italics he says, "About one- 
half of its outstanding capitalization 
represents properties other than steam 
railroads." The truth is that if 
£10,955,000 invested in the Milbrook 
Company, controlling the New York & 
Port Chester and the New York, West 
Chester & Boston roads, now the 
equivalent of high-grade steam rail- 
roads, but electrified, is included in 
steam railroad property, the steam 
railroads represented £218,814,476.06 
of capitalization, the other properties 
£100,412,053.95, a difference of over 
£118,000,000. (See Report of the 
Commission on Commerce and In- 
dustry, pp. 98-101, inclusive.) If 
the Park Square property, bought for 
railroad purposes and now being sold, 
is included in railroad property, a 
difference of about £123,000,000 is 
shown. If neither the Milbrook Com- 



pany nor the Park Square property 
is included, the difference is about 
#107,000,000. Presently he says, 
"Its stock is not tax exempt." 
This statement, made categorically, is 
the exact reverse of the truth. On 
page 8 of the document the reader gets 
an inkling that the categorical state- 
ment was only a subtle legal distinc- 
tion in the author's mind between the 
"old" New Haven road and the 
"new" New Haven holding company. 
Here, too, however, the statement is 
made categorically: "The tax ex- 
emption does not apply to such com- 
pany." The italicized summary says, 
"This year's fixed and miscellaneous 
charges will reach £20,000,000." _ This 
statement is later repeated twice in 
the report: first on page 11, — in spite 
of figures on the same page showing 
that, including guaranteed dividends 
of the company's Massachusetts trolley 
system, the fixed charges the previous 
year had been only £16,267,177.70, — 
a second time on page 23 where the 
figure "not less than £20,000,000," 
together with certain charges which 
the author would make against income 
for betterments and improvements, 
is the basis for the conclusion, also 
italicized, that the "dividend balance 
would be . . . less than enough to 
pay during the year three per cent in 
dividends," — a sensational assertion. 
The truth is that the fixed charges for 
that year proved to be only £17,259,- 
832.05, as might have been foretold 
and was foretold at the time by a 
writer in the Boston News Bureau 
commenting on the Brandeis docu- 
ment. Finally, in italics much larger 
than the other italics, the summary 
of the New Haven weakness says, 
"If solvency is to be maintained, 
a large reduction in the dividend rate 
is inevitable ." Yet for five years 
since then the eight per cent dividend 
rate has been maintained. 

The Boston & Maine summary is 
altogether favorable and concludes 
thus: "During the last six years its 
[the Boston & Maine's] financial con- 
dition has been growing steadily in 
strength, and it is in a sound condition 

for further development of its trans- 
portation facilities." Yet it is the 
almost universal opinion of the finan- 
cial world that but, for the supporting 
arms of the New Haven, the Boston 
& Maine would before this have been 
in the hands of a receiver. 

Note also this in the introduction 
to the document: "The New Haven 
Company, instead of being strong, is 
financially weak. The Boston^ & 
Maine, instead of being hopelessly 
weak, has been growing steadily in 
financial strength. A review of the 
financial operations of the two com- 
panies during the past six years should 
convince the reader of these facts." 

What extraordinary figures follow 
this introduction and the New Haven 
summary! Seeing them in print and 
stated with an air of authority, the 
modest reader is not inclined to ques- 
tion them. But he is only the more 
astonished when, on analysis, he finds 
how untrue they are. 

For example, on page 9 the opening 
line of a chapter on capitalization's 
as follows: "Stock, — the outstanding 
capital stock of the new New York, 
New Haven & Hartford Railroad 
Company on June 30, 1907, was 
£121,878,100." The assertion is ab- 
solute, and is not made the less so by 
the following paragraph, fourteen lines 
below: "The 247,977 shares of the 
New York, New Haven & Hartford 
Railroad Company's 'full paid stock' 
now held by its subsidiary companies 
may, in the discretion of the manage- 
ment, be sold in the market without 
notice to the public from time to time 
at any price, — a serious menace to 
the market value of New Haven 

"The 247,977 shares" of stock have 
not been mentioned up to this point 
in the document, and there is nothing 
here to indicate to the reader that 
the outstanding stock was not, as 
quoted above, £121,878,100 but, £24,- 
797,700 less than this, or £97,080,400. 
The reader is simply led to believe 
that another menacing situation is 
being disclosed. The balance sheet of 
the company stated: — 



Capital stock £121,878,100 

Less: held by subsidiary 

companies 24,797,700 

Yet, Mr. Brandeis asserted without 
qualification that the outstanding 
stock was £121,878,100 and made this 
large issue compare unfavorably with 
only £91,878,100 old company stock 
outstanding about six months earlier 
{i.e., previous to May 31, 1907), and 
mentions the 247,977 shares in the 
treasury, not to subtract them from 
£121,878,100 but simply to darken 
the picture. 

On page 25, under the title "Causes 
of Financial Decline," this statement 
is made: "The aggregate capital obli- 
gations outstanding in the hands of 
the public of the New Haven system 
(including besides the railroads owned 
or leased and commonly known as the 
New York, New Haven & Hartford 
Railroad, also the controlled railroads 
operated separately, and the trolleys, 
steamships, electric light, and other 
interests) increased from £158,883,443 
on June 30, 1901, to £498,849,805 on 
June 30, 1907, or £339,966,362." 

From these figures the reader was 
to deduce that there had been a 
sensational increase of capitalization. 

A table on pages 42 and 44 gives in 
detail this increase. Included in this 
table are the following items: "N. Y., 
Ont. & Western R.R. Co. stock 
£28,955,783, bonds £26,025,000," or, 
together, about £55,000,000 of lia- 
bilities. Nevertheless, on page 28, 
near the close of the chapter on 
"Causes of Financial Decline," this 
statement is made: "New York, On- 
tario, and Western.— The 291,600 
shares of common stock in this com- 
pany [no effort is made to reconcile 
this £29,160,000 of stock with the 
£28,955,783 in the table on page 44] 
purchased by the New Haven at about 
£45 per share, or £13,105,185.62, on 
November 1, 1904, were selling in the 
market on December 2, 1907, at 
£32 per share." The purpose here is 
to show, that the New Haven Com- 
pany made a serious loss on the in- 

vestment (without the slightest allow- 
ance being made for the fact that the 
quotation of December 2, 1907, was 
in the midst of an exceptionally severe 
panic). But the real significance of 
this quotation is in disclosing the au- 
thor's knowledge of the true facts 
when he piled up indebtedness against 
the New Haven Company. The debt 
of about £55,000,00(3 which he ch; 
against the companv is really an in- 
vestment of about $13,000,000. The 
New Haven Companv owned the 
£29,000,000, more or less, of New York, 
Ontario, and Western stock, and was 
under no further obligation with regard 
to it. Nor was it under obligation to 
pay the bonds any more than the other 
stockholders were. Nor did it 
par for the stock. The £13,000,000 
should have appeared as part of the 
company's assets, and not as £55,000,- 
000 of liabilities. The money to 
pay for the stock had created part of 
the company's other liabilities. 

The bonds of the Central New Eng- 
land Railway Company, of the lines 
leased by the New York, Ontan ic 
Western, and of the various leased 
lines of the New Haven, for which 
the New Haven has no more than a 
contingent liability, are also included. 

On page 28, under the sub-heading, 
" 'Other Properties' Purchased at 
Excessive Cost" appears first: "Cen- 
tral New England Railway Company. 
This railway company showed for the 
year ending June 30, 1907, a net deficit 
from operations of £431,046.92, and, 
after payment of fixed charges, a net 
deficit of £647,568.72. In the operat- 
ing expense for the year was included 
expenditures for rebuilding and 
strengthening the Poughkeepsie 
bridge." If the author had had the 
justice to indicate to the reader that 
the New Haven Company was making 
over the Central New England (the 
rebuilding of the Poughkeepsie bridge 
was only part of this work) and had 
shown its strength by earning its own 
dividends, with a comfortable balance, 
notwithstanding so large a temporary 
deficit for one of its branches, he would 
have avoided a pitfall. The New 



Haven report for the year ending 
June 30, 1907, said, but Mr. Brandeis 
did not quote this, "The rehabilitation 
of this property [the Central New- 
England] is so far advanced it is be- 
lieved practicable to commence pay- 
ment of a rate of interest, probably not 
exceeding three per cent, upon the 
general mortgage income bonds from 
the net earnings for the year ending 
June 30, 1908." The earnings of 
this sub-company "purchased at ex- 
cessive cost" have indeed proved so 
prolific that last year the net earnings 
above all charges amounted to #813,- 
685.27. As the total investment of 
the New Haven in the Central New 
England, including its investment in 
the income bonds of that company, 
amounted at the outset to only #6,500,- 
365.63, the excellence of the net return 
is manifest and will become more so 
later in this narrative. The New 
Haven officials use the Central New 
England as an example of what they 
expect eventually to do with the Bos- 
ton & Maine. 

In his conclusion Mr. Brandeis says, 
"The New Haven's credit is strained 
to the uttermost." Could words more 
damaging than these to a company's 
financial standing be uttered? Yet 
since then the company has met every 
obligation, has supported the Boston 
& Maine, and has paid about #60,000,- 
000 in dividends. He also reiterates 
the following erroneous statement: 
"The taxability of its stock in the 
hands of the holder must further 
contract its financial resources." Al- 
ways on this point he has in mind only 
the holders in Massachusetts. The 
wonder is that Mr. Brandeis with his 
clear mind and legal training should 
have no thought for the stockholders 
in Connecticut, the home state of the 
Company, or in New York, where, 
it is charged, the control lies. In 
Massachusetts the stock is still non- 

In all his analysis of the New Haven 
road the author of the document has 
not a single word of praise. The 
analysis of the Boston & Maine is as 
unsound as that of the New Haven. 

Beginning with the summary on page 
31, every word is a word of praise. 
The Boston & Maine was said to be 
growing steadily in financial strength; 
the securities were savings-bank in- 
vestments; the stock was tax exempt. 
But note the following on page 35 
under the title "Net Income"; "The 
reported net earnings for the year 
ending June 30, 1907, of the lines 
operated by the Boston & Maine 
Railroad were #10,101,410.11. The 
sum of $741,668.83 expended for new 
equipment charged against the year's 
income is included in operating ex- 
pense; and #493,248.88 expended for 
betterments and improvements is 
charged against the year's income, 
instead of being charged to operating. 
... If the method of accounting had 
been followed in the year 1906-07, 
so as not to include in operating ex- 
pense either the $741,668.83 expended 
for new equipment or the #493,248.88 
expended for betterments and improve- 
ments and charged against the year's 
income, the net earnings from opera- 
tion would have been #10,843,079." 

Now adding #741,668.83 to #10,- 
101.410.11 does make #10,843,079, 
but' adding #493,248.88 to #10,101,- 
410.11 makes quite a different figure. 
Mathematics could hardly be more 
shocked than by the statement that 
adding either of two different sums 
to the same sum will produce the 
same sum. Next note that the 
#493,248.88 was "charged against the 
year's income, instead of being charged 
to operating." Nevertheless, if ac- 
counting methods had been adopted, 
"so as not to include in operating 
expense" this sum, a different figure 
would have been produced. Lastly, 
what is the difference between charging 
betterments to income and charging 
them to operating? 

Under the title "Elements of Finan- 
cial Strength" the document (p. 40) 
says of the Boston & Maine, "Its 
net earnings in 1906-1907 per mile 
of track owned or leased were #2,- 
507.92 per mile as compared with 
#3,506.64 per mile on the New Haven, 
although the freight rates on the New 



Haven were 32.71 per cent higher than 
on the Boston & Maine." 

As a categorical statement, this com- 
parison hardly reflects credit on the 
Boston & Maine, for the New Haven's 
earnings per mile are thus shown to 
be 39.82 per cent larger than those 
of the Boston & Maine. Even this 
"element of financial strength" is 
arrived at by subtracting $3,000,000 
from the New Haven's net earnings, 
making them arbitrarily $14,751,854.61 
instead of $17,751,854.61, as reported 
by the company, this fact being ad- 
mitted only in a foot note. Even after 
this theBoston & Maine isweak by com- 
parison, whereas the heading leaves the 
reader to believe that strength is shown. 

The only ostensible author of this 
inaccurate and unsound document is 
the same Mr. Brandeis, who now, 
five years later, is so merciless with 
the New Haven, if there is a mistake 
in a delivery of freight or an engineer 
ignores a danger signal. 

Two other quotations from the 
document in line with all the rest 
should be made in closing this chapter. 
First, on the luckless page 35 appears 
the following paragraph in praise of 
the Boston & Maine: "This increase 
in net earnings has been made in 
spite of heavy charges for main- 
tenance of way and equipment, and 
for improvements and betterments 
and new equipment charged against 
operating expense or income through- 
out the whole period, whereas the 
New Haven reduced its pro rata 
charges for maintenance charged 
against operating expense or income 
during the year 1906-07 nearly one- 
fifth as compared with the average of 
the four years preceding Mr. Mellen's 
regime." Comment on this is re- 
served till the report of the Commis- 
sion on Commerce and Labor is dis- 
cussed. Secondly, on page 38 this 
statement appears: "The amount re- 
quired for the dividend upon the 
common stock outstanding ... is 
$1,871,768. There seems to be no 
reason to doubt that the net income 
of the company will be ample to pay 
this dividend." 

Yet, as is well known, dividends 
on Boston & Maine common <-.tock 
have been reduced from seven per 
cent to four per cent, and for the past 
two years even this small return has 
been only about one-half earned. 

The Facts 

In July, 1907, the members of "The 
Commission on Commerce and In- 
dustry" were appointed, consisting 
of Joseph B. Warner, chairman; 
George G. Crocker, William L. Doug- 
las, Charles F. Adams, 2d, and Edward 
Cohen. Mr. Cohen died in December 

1907, and Mr. James R. Crozier was 
appointed in his place on February 
5, 1908. A commission thus composed 
was clearly entitled to respect. It 
was, in brief, " to pursue any line of in- 
vestigation bearing upon the future 
of the industries of the Common- 
wealth." In October, 1907, the com- 
mission decided that its greatest use- 
fulness lay in a study of and report 
on the New York, New Haven & 
Hartford and the Boston & Maine 
railroad companies. It employed two 
expert accountants : one, Stephen Little, 
an accountant whose disclosures of 
rottenness in the old Atchison Com- 
pany, and whose subsequent work 
had won for him a high national 
reputation; the other, Josiah F. Hill, 
the careful and accurate statistician of 
Messrs. Lee, Higginson & Co. As 
that firm had, however, acted as 
brokers in the acquisition of Boston 
& Maine stock by the New Haven, 
the criticism has been made that con- 
ceivably Mr. Hill might be prejudiced. 
There is no question that he was 
appointed simply because of his skill 
as an expert. 

The commission reported in March, 

1908, just three months after the 
Brandeis document appeared. Ac- 
companying the report is the report 
of the accountants to the commis- 

Both in its general tenor and in 
detail the report of these experts 
is a complete refutation of Mr. Bran- 
deis's outwardly imposing document, 



though neither that document nor the 
author is alluded to in the report. 

The experts pointed out that the 
New Haven accounts had "been ex- 
amined by Messrs. Price, Waterhouse 
& Co., chartered accountants, whose 
reputation, both in this country and 
abroad is of the highest," and had 
been approved. "The Boston & 
Maine's accounts have not been au- 
dited by independent account- 

Note the following, (p. 103): "It 
should be understood that the New 
York, New Haven & Hartford has no 
liability for any outstanding securities 
of the New York, Ontario & Western 
Railroad Company or the Central 
New England Railway Company, its 
sole interests in those companies being 
those of a stockholder or bondholder." 

Note next the following (p. 104): 
"For the period of seven years ended 
June 30, 1907, the companies show the 
following surplus income over and 
above operating expenses, fixed 
charges, and dividends: 

New York, New Haven 

& Hartford $7,057,074.00 

Boston & Maine 1,080,484.00 

"We have made an analysis, see 
[Exhibit XI, hereto annexed] of the 
amounts charged to operating ex- 
penses, representing expenditures for 
maintenance of way and structures 
and maintenance of equipment of the 
steam railroads, from which it appears 
that, apparently by reason of the 
greater amount of improvement work 
charged to operating expenses, the 
New Haven's operating expenses for 
maintenance were greater in propor- 
tion to the mileage of track and in 
proportion to the amount of equip- 
ment maintained than those of the 
Boston & Maine; and that, if the New 
Haven had restricted its operating 
expenses for maintenance of its steam 
railroads and their equipment to the 
scale of similar expenses by the Boston 
& Maine, the surplus income of the 
New Haven, over and above operating 
expenses, fixed charges and dividends, 
instead of being $7,057,074, as re- 

ported, would have been increased to 
$19,675,000 and the comparison of 
surplus income above operating ex- 
penses, fixed charges, and dividends, 
would have been as follows for the 
entire period of seven years ended 
June 30, 1907: 

New York, New Haven 

& Hartford $19,657,000 

Boston & Maine 1,080,484 

In addition, the New Haven had 
accumulated fire insurance and acci- 
dent funds of $1,225,992.51. 

The experts add: "We have ana- 
lyzed the maintenance expenses of the 
street railways also, using as a basis 
of comparison the maintenance ex- 
penses of the Boston & Northern and 
Old Colony Street Railways [Massa- 
chusetts electric companies], from 
which it appears that the New Haven's 
charges to operating expenses for 
maintenance of its street railways 
were on a scale so much higher, in pro- 
portion to the miles of track and 
number of cars maintained, as to lead 
to the conclusion that the New Haven 
charged in operating expenses of its 
street railways large amounts for 
additions and improvements." Con- 
sequently, the New Haven "might 
have shown for the fiscal year 1906-07 
(the year most attacked in the Bran- 
deis document) surplus income of 
more than $3,000,000 after paying 
operating expenses, fixed charges, and 
dividends instead of the surplus of 
$1,988,053 actually shown." 

The New Haven, the experts show, 
charged oif in the seven years for 
betterments, additional property, new 
equipment, etc., $19,861,439.11, some- 
what more than the amount ($19,- 
006,978.96) received from premiums 
on stock. The Boston & Maine in the 
same period charged off only $493,248.- 
88, and still carried as liabilities the 
premiums received amounting to 

"We conclude that depreciation, 
both of roadway and equipment of 
the New Haven's steam railroads, 
whether during the last seven years or 
during the last year, has been more 



than provided for by charges to 
operating expenses or income." 

Yet Mr. Brandeis admitted in a 
foot note that he had subtracted 
$3,000,000 for the last year from the 
income of the New Haven, in the effort 
to make that company compare un- 
favorably with the Boston & Maine. 

The analysis of the higher freight 
rates on the New Haven than on the 
Boston & Maine — Mr. Brandeis 
would have his readers believe the 
community would not long stand this, 
as he presented the facts — shows that 
they were practically altogether due 
to the acquisition, July 1, 1900, by 
the Boston & Maine of the Fitchburg 
Railroad, with its "very large amount 
of through low-class freight, much of 
it for export." The average distance 
hauled per ton in the year 1906-07 was 
somewhat less on the New Haven than 
on the Boston & Maine (90.20 to 
98.74), accounting also for a somewhat 
higher rate. For the year ending 
June 30, 1900, the charges on the New 
Haven and Boston & Maine were 
nearly the same, 1.451 and 1.440 cents, 
respectively. The next year, after 
the acquisition of the Fitchburg, the 
ratio was 1.479 to 1.158, and this 
ratio was about the same in 1906-00; 
viz., 1.436 to 1.114. In 1906-07 
fifty-nine per cent of the New Haven 
freight was high-class, commanding 
higher rates, 41 per cent low class. 
On the Boston & Maine 40 per cent was 
high class, 60 per cent low class. 
Mr. Brandeis figures thus fall to the 
ground when examined. 

Three years later another 1 official 
board reported on the New York, 
New Haven & Hartford Railroad 
Company. This was the so-called 
"validation" commission. On the 
whole, this commission had reason 
to be unfriendly to the New Haven 
road. A majority of the commission 
was made up of the Massachusetts 
Railroad Commission, which felt that 
the rights of the Commonwealth had 
been circumvented through the New 
Haven's use of its Connecticut charter. 
Stock had been issued without ob- 
taining the consent of the ^railroad 

commission; bonds had been issued in 
exces€ of the amount allowed under 
Massachusetts laws; and otherwise 
the road had disregarded Massa- 
chusetts tradition. 

Nevertheless, the report of the com- 
mission was strikingly favorabl' 
the New Haven's financial strength. 
This commission was not only a 
commission created by special statute 
of the Commonwealth, but it consisted 
entirely of state officials, the three 
railroad commissioners, the tax com- 
missioner, and the bank commissioner. 
It would be hard to find a commission 
which could speak with more au- 
thority or be less biased in favoi 
the company. 

This commission made two reports 
one under the resolve of 1909, the 
other in 1911, under the acts of 1910 
The latter is the so-called validation 

The physical valuation of the New 
Haven properties was placed in the 
hands of Professor George F. Swain, 
of Harvard University, the invest- 
ment and accounting divisions in the 
hands of Messrs. Stone and Webster. 

In addition, the commission "made 
its own independent examination of 
the properties and securities so far as 
was deemed necessary. The bank 
commissioner, accompanied by seven 
assistants, went to New Haven, and 
counted the bonds, stocks, and notes 
represented by the schedule of assets 
of the company, verified the cash on 
hand and in national banks and trust 
companies by sworn certificates, and 
checked the total amount of bonds and 
capital stock issued and all other 
liabilities as shown on the balance 
sheet of the company. Members of 
the commission from time to time 
examined the physical property of 
the company, both owned and con- 
trolled, including a special trip over 
the New York, Ontario & Western 
Railroad in the state of New York, 
and the Central New England Rail- 
road and the old New York and New 
England Railroad in New York, Con- 
necticut, and Massachusetts. Mr. 
Bishop of the railroad commission, in 



addition to his annual inspection of 
the Massachusetts lines of the com- 
pany, made special trips of inspection 
over the main line between New York 
and Boston, and over substantially 
all of the Rhode Island and Con- 
necticut trolley lines. He found the 
properties in excellent condition and 
well maintained." 

This official testimony in 1911 is 
interesting when contrasted with the 
irresponsible hue and cry in 1912, 
about ministers drawing rusty spikes 
with their fingers from rotten ties, 
about disreputable equipment, and 
positive danger in traveling on the 
lines of the company. 

The following quotations from the 
report are interesting: 

"The widest latitude was assured to 
the experts in revision and adjust- 
ment, it being distinctly understood 
that the judgment of the commission 
should not be substituted for their 
judgment, nor, on the other hand, 
their judgment for that of the com- 
mission. The commission has, how- 
ever, under the act and in pursuance 
of its duties, acted as its own board of 
adjustment in reaching its inde- 
pendent conclusion with respect to 
values. It is to be observed, how- 
ever, that the commission is limited 
under the terms of the act to the duty 
of examination of the assets and 
liabilities for the purpose of validating 
the present outstanding securities of 
the company after an examination of 
its property, and it, therefore, is not 
incumbent upon it to make any report 
of the value of the assets other than to 
find that they are sufficient to secure 
its outstanding capital stock and in- 
debtedness. The commission has 
found that the assets are sufficient for 
the purposes of the statute and filed its 
certificates accordingly." 

Having thus performed its legal 
duty, the commission proceeds: 

"The accompanying reports indi- 
cate a value of assets very largely 
in excess of capital stock and in- 

Particularly noteworthy is the fol- 
lowing on "intangible assets," not 

only as showing that they were not 
included in the reports either of the 
commission or of its experts, but in 
view of recent attacks on the manage- 

"The word 'assets' is of sufficiently 
broad definition to include the entire 
property of all sorts belonging to a 
corporation; and would permit the 
commission to appraise the value of 
intangible assets, so called, including 
all the franchises of the corporation, 
together with its value as a going 
concern. . . . Without undertaking to 
place a value for any purpose on such 
intangible assets, it is enough to say 
that taken together their value would 
be very large. The monopolistic char- 
acter of the New York, New Haven 
& Hartford Railroad Company's sys- 
tem, the densely populated districts 
which it serves, the very large number 
of industrial and commercial enter- 
prises along its lines and in the vicinity, 
and the efficiency of the management 
of the company are factors, although 
not exclusive ones, that, it will be 
readily conceded, make for values of 
an intangible character." 

Less than two years ago, then, "the 
monopolistic character" of the com- 
pany was not a source of weakness, 
and the management was manifestly 

The report of Professor Swain on 
the charges of the New Haven to 
depreciation is as follows: 

"The depreciation charges likewise 
have been carefully determined and 
represent, in my opinion, a very con- 
servative judgment. ... It is the 
unanimous testimony of every one 
concerned in this work, who has ex- 
amined the line or any part of it, that 
the property is maintained in remark- 
ably good condition." 

Is this the same property which the 
Brandeis document purported to de- 
scribe or which thousands are now 
being induced to decry? 

The description of the Central New 
England, the first road mentioned 
by Mr. Brandeis as having been 
bought "at excessive cost," is illumi- 
nating. Says Professor Swain: 



"The stock of the Central New 
England was acquired by the New 
Haven at a very low price [exces- 
sive cost indeed] the preferred stand- 
ing at about #25 a share, and 
the common at about $16 a share. 
When the New Haven acquired this 
road, the Poughkeepsie bridge re- 
quired extensive strengthening to 
superstructure and substructure, to 
enable it to carry heavy trains. This 
strengthening was carried out at a 
cost of over $1,000,000 and was only 
completed a year or two ago. The 
cost of the work was charged entirely 
to operating expenses, though a large 
part of it, if not the whole, might have 
been capitalized, inasmuch as it was to 
increase the capacity of the structure." 

Yet, notwithstanding such conser- 
vatism in bookkeeping, Mr. Brandeis 
stated that the New Haven net 
earnings in 1906-07 were $3,000,000 
less than those reported by the com- 

Says Professor Swain: "Had the 
above net income of $415,000 [that 
for the year ending June 30, 1910] 
been distributed, the rate of return 
on the preferred stock would have 
been 7 per cent, the rate of return on 
the common 3 per cent on their par 
value, or 27.6 per cent and 19.17 
per cent respectively on the book 
value of these stocks to the New 
Haven. On the basis of earnings, 
therefore, capitalized at 4$ per cent, 
the stock should be taken at 155 for 
the preferred, and 67 for the common." 

As if this were not refutation 
enough, last year (i.e., the year ending 
June 30, 1912) the net earnings from 
the Central New England Railway 
were $813,685.27, or nearly twice as 
large as when Professor Swain re- 

Professor Swain says, "It is certainly 
conservative to appraise the preferred 
stock at $90 and the common at $30 
per share, and these values have been 
used." In view of later develop- 
ments it would certainly seem so. 

The Harlem River and Port Chester 
Railroad Company, belonging to the 
New Haven, is an extraordinary road. 

Professor Swain valued it at $41,- 

222,191. It was then valued by the 
New Haven at $25,334,833.38 and 
is now valued by it at $26,531,825.45. 
Yet it is only 11.17 miles loi 
possession of this road and the com- 
parison with it on a per mile ba 
the Boston & Maine exasperated Mr. 
Mellen in June, 1907. The road con- 
stitutes the New Haven' in 
terminals in New York City. I 
fessor Swain says, "The right of way 
and other real estate, originally ac- 
quired many years ago, has appre- 
ciated enormously with tl h of 
values in upper New York." 

The value of property of I 
England Navigation Company is 
written down from $17,569,572.38 to 
$8,710,174.84. Likewise the I 
York, West Chester and Boston road, 
which had cost the New Haven 
$21,020,094.62, was written down to 
$12,066,921.18, because nothing 
allowed by Professor Swain for "the 
cost of franchises, control of the 
situation," etc. 

The Rhode Island Company stock 
was even more drastically written 
down by Professor Swain, but his 
remarks in doing so are noteworthy. 
He said: 

"The value of the Rhode Island 
Company stock is thus seen to be 
quite uncertain. However, when it is 
considered that the lines have a 
mileage of 320 miles of single track, 
serving the second largest city in New 
England; that the earnings are in- 
creasing; that the property has been 
put in excellent condition; and that 
the leases are for a very long term, it 
seems probable that the ultimate 
value of the property will be great. 
For the purposes of this report, which 
is designed to be very conservative, 
however, the value of these shares :« 
placed at $6,000,000 or about 562 a 
share, that is to say, about one-fourth 
the cost to the New Haven.*' 

The net result of the additions and 
subtractions by the experts of the 
validation commission was to find a 
net surplus for the New Haven Com- 
pany of $101,612,074.38 above all 



liabilities, including capital stock. In 
other words, the whole New Haven 
property seemed to the experts to be 
worth over $100,000,000 more than 
the value at which it was carried on 
the New Haven books. 

Mr. Brandeis has never retracted 
his 1907 document or publicly indi- 
go be concluded 

cated a desire to change his figures. 
On the contrary, on December 22, 
1912 (see the Sunday Herald of that 
date), answering Mr. Mellen's "two- 
column" statement, he spoke of "the 
folly" which "was made public five 
years ago" without any qualifications 
in the April issue) 

The Republican Party in 


THE campaign of 1858 resulted 
in the election of the Republican 
state ticket, and the return of 
a solid Republican delegation 
to Congress. In this year national 
questions had largely occupied the 
attention of the Republican party in 
the nation; and Massachusetts, from 
her position as an anti-salvery state 
was fully aroused. The attempt to 
force the pro-slavery Lecompton Con- 
stitution upon Kansas, against the 
wish of a majority of its inhabitants, 
a scheme in which the slave power had 
the active support of President Bu- 
chanan, was but another exhibition 
of the aggressiveness of the South. 
The Massachusetts delegation firmly 
opposed it (the Douglas Democrats 
in the state, and the Republican party 
were outspoken in their condemnation 
of it), and though by open threats 
and sinister influences, Congress passed 
the enabling act, coupled with a 
bribe to the people of Kansas to 
induce them to accept the proposed 
pro-slavery constitution. Kansas by 
a majority of ten thousand votes, re- 
fused to come into the Union as a 
slave state. The result politically 
was to make Massachusetts more radi- 
cally Republican than ever. Mr. 
Andrew declined a re-election to the 

The year 1859 was especially marked 
by the ill-starred raid into Virginia 
of John Brown, who, on the sixteenth 
of October of that year, with a force 
of fourteen white and five colored men, 
entered Harpers Ferry, stopped the 
railroad trains, seized the United 
States Amory buildings, and held the 
town for little more than a day. His 
force was then overcome by a body 
of United States marines, under the 
comman do Col. Robert E. Lee, sub- 
sequently famous as the commander- 
in-chief of the Confederate States 
armies. Eight of Brown's followers, 
including two of his sons, were killed 
or mortally wounded, six were cap- 
tured — the others escaped. He was 
tried and hung under Virginia law. 
Among those who were familiar with 
Brown's plans, and who aided him with 
arms and money, were several citizens 
of Massachusetts, who had been promi- 
nent in anti-slavery movements, and 
had acted at times with the Republican 
party. While Brown's act was neither 
endorsed nor excused by the Republi- 
cans of Massachusetts, but generally 
condemned as illegal and unjustifiable, 
and calculated to retard the growing 
anti-slavery sentiments of the state, 
there was a feeling of pity for him and 
his family, which found expression in a 
movement to secure for him as fair 



a trial as was possible. A fund was 
raised for that purpose, and in col- 
lecting this fund, and arranging to 
secure him legal counsel, John A. 
Andrew was very active. This, with 
the fact that Massachusetts men, had, 
as above stated, furnished money and 
arms, afforded the Democrats in the 
state and nation opportunity to 
arraign the party in Massachusetts 
as responsible for Brown's attempt, and 
as justifying his acts. But failure 
waited upon these charges. No proof 
of even the slightest nature could be 
found to sustain them. 

It may not be inappropriate here 
to say that the Governor of Virginia, 
Henry A. Wise, who had been deeply 
impressed by "the courageous forti- 
tude and simple ingenuousness" of 
Brown — to use the Governor's own 
words — was most courteous and kind 
in his treatment of Brown and his 
friends, writing to Mrs. Brown a letter 
expressing his "sympathy with her 
affliction," and an assurance that his 
"authority and personal influence 
should be exerted to aid her in securing 
the bones of her sons and her husband 
for decent and tender interment among 
their kindred." Such words reflect 
honor upon the man and the official — 
they speak volumes also, for the char- 
acter of the man whose demeanor won 
their utterance. Brown spoke of his 
jailer, Captain Avis, as "a most 
humane man, who, with his family, has 
rendered every possible attention I 
have desired or that could be of the 
least advantage." The story set forth 
in this digression illustrates and helps 
to explain the words spoken by Mr. 
Andrew, at a meeting called to raise 
a fund for the family of Brown after 
his execution. "I pause not now to 
consider, because it is wholly outside 
the duty of this assembly to-night, 
whether the enterprise of John Brown 
and his associates in Virginia was wise 
or foolish, right or wrong. I only 
know that whether the enterprise was 
the one or the other, John Brown 
himself is right." If Governor Wise, 
the slave-holding chief magistrate of 
the slave-holding state which Brown 

had made terror stricken, could speak 

of him as a man of '' 

tude and simple ingenuou 

any one might well iay "John Brown 

himself is right." 

The campaign for the presidency in 
I860 was the most notable in the 
history of the nation. In its incep- 
tion it was not marked by the ebullient 
enthusiasm which the hard-cider and 
log-cabin features of the I 
campaign in 1840 ai nor had 

it the inspiring and romanti< elen i 
of the "John and Path- 

finder" incidents of 1856. Deep d 
in the hearts of the North was the 
conviction that this was a c 
not only for God-instill 
and the right to believe in and I 
them; it waa also a contest for their 
enforcement. The Rq ublicans were 
well aware that if they succeeded in 
the election, the radical element in 
the slave-holding states would seize 
upon that fact to urge a secession of 
their states from the Union. That 
purpose had been boldly avowed and 
was firmly fixed in their minds. The 
extremist leaders of the South had for 
years been awaiting an opportunity to 
secede; had bent all their energies to 
instill into Southern minds, the ad- 
vantages which would result from a 
new nation of slave-holding states, 
with slavery as its cornerstone and 
cotton as king; and the dangers to 
Southern interests and Southern su- 
premacy if the anti-slavery men got 
control of the National Government. 
For years they had been seeking "to 
fire the Southern heart." 

While the majority of the Republi- 
cans did not believe that secession 
would be attempted, yet there were 
those who justly feared it. They had 
been observers of the trade of the 
Southern movement, and the am- 
bition and purpose of prominent 
Southern leaders since the time of the 
agitation for the annexation of Texas. 
It was, therefore, with a fixed purpose 
to afford the South no just cause for 
the threatened action, and yet with a 
purpose no less fixed to adhere to and 
assert the cardinal principles of the 



Republican party that the leaders 
of that party issued the call for its 
National Convention. 

The National Convention of the 
Democrats was first held; meeting at 
Charleston, South Carolina, May 23, 
1860; the leading candidate before 
that convention was Stephen A. Doug- 
las of Illinois, who doubtless had a 
majority of the delegates, but by a 
rule of Democratic Convention, then 
and since enforced, the nominee must 
receive the votes of two-thirds of them. 
In 1858 Mr. Douglas had incurred 
the enmity of Mr. Buchanan and the 
extreme Southern element, through 
his failure to support them in the 
attempt to fasten the pro-slavery 
constitution upon Kansas, and they 
were bitterly opposed to his nomina- 
tion. But Mr. Douglas' following 
was sufficiently numerous to adopt a 
platform so objectionable to the dele- 
gates from the slave-holding states, 
that those from Alabama, Florida, 
Louisiana, Mississippi, and Texas, 
and others from other states resigned 
their seats in the convention and 
retired; organized in another hall, and 
adjourned to meet in Richmond on 
the second Monday of June. The 
regular convention, after a session of 
ten days, balloting without result, 
adjourned to meet at Baltimore on 
June 18. It met, but only to signally 
fail in its purposes, for the entire dele- 
gation of five more states and a few 
others retired from it. Douglas was 
nominated by those who remained. 
The bolters from it met in a conven- 
tion of their own, adopted a platform 
acceptable to the anti-Douglas wing 
of the party, nominated John C. 
Breckenridgeof Kentucky, and Joseph 
Lane of Oregon, for president and 
vice-president respectively, and ad- 
journed. The Convention of the first 
seceders at Charleston met, adopted 
the same pro-slavery anti-Douglas 
ticket and platform, and adjourned 
without delay. The Democratic party 
was rent in twain. 

The remnants of "The American 
party," augmented by a body of so- 
called "Conservatives, "formerly Whigs, 

Bombonish in temperament, who had 
found no new political abiding place, 
also met in National Convention at 
Baltimore on May 9, of the same year 
and taking the name, "Constitutional 
Union Party," nominated John Bell 
of Tennessee, for president, and Ed- 
ward Everett of Massachusetts, for 
vice-president. Both of the nominees 
had been prominent members of the 
Whig party in its palmy days. This 
convention adopted as an all-sufficient 
platform, "The Constitution of the 
Country, the Union of the States, 
and the enforcement of the Laws." 

"A party platform to, just level with the mind." 
Of all right-thinking honest folks that mean to 
go it blind." 
— James Russell Lowell in "Biglow Papers." 

The Republican party held its 
National Convention at Chicago, May 
16, adopted a platform in opposition 
to the principles of the pro-slavery 
Propaganda and proceeded to nomi- 
nate its candidates for president and 
vice-president. The delegates from 
Massachusetts were largely in favor 
of William H. Seward of New York, 
for president. Mr. Seward had had 
a long career in public life, had been 
governor of his state, and its represen- 
tative in the United States Senate. 
For many years he was openly identi- 
fied with the anti-slavery movement 
and as a member of the National 
Senate, its advocate and defender. 
New York presented his name; Illinois 
that of Abraham Lincoln, and other 
states named favorite sons. On the 
first ballot Mr. Seward received one 
hundred seventy-three and a half 
votes. Mr. Lincoln one hundred and 
two. On the second ballot Mr. Se- 
ward had one hundred and eighty-four 
votes and Mr. Lincoln one hundred 
and eighty-one. On the third ballot 
Mr. Seward had one hundred and 
eighty votes and Mr. Lincoln two hun- 
dred thirty-one and a half; two hundred 
and thirty-three being necessary to 
a choice. Then various delegations 
changed their votes to Lincoln, and 
he was on motion declared to be the 
unanimous choice of the Convention 
as its candidate for president. Hanni- 



bal Hamlin of Maine, received its 
nomination for the vice-presidency. 
Massachusetts Republicans, though at 
first disappointed at the defeat of Mr. 
Seward, loyally rallied to the support 
of the nominees, and under the lead 
of the radical element in the party, 
nominated John A. Andrew for gover- 
nor, and John L. Goodrich for lieut.- 
governor; gave the electoral vote 
of the state to Lincoln and Hamlin, 
and placed John A. Andrew in the 
gubernatorial chair, there to sit through 
re-elections, for five successive years; 
years of such stress and storm as had 
never before fallen to the lot of any 
of his predecessors. As is well known, 
the election of Lincoln afforded the 
secession element of the South the 
opportunity it had long awaited. 
South Carolina was the first to secede, 
followed at different times by all of 
the slave-holding states, except Mis- 
souri, Maryland, Delaware, and Ken- 

During the period between the 
election of 1860 and the inauguration 
of President Lincoln, various attempts 
were made by bodies of conservative 
citizens in the country to arrest, if 
possible, the secession of the Southern 
states, by trying to bring about the 
respect of laws which were distasteful 
to the South; laws passed by several 
of the Northern states for protecting 
the rights of fugitive slaves, or in- 
tended to restrict the extension of 
slavery. This would require that 
Massachusetts repeal its "Personal 
Liberty Law" to satisfy Southern 
demands, and open its borders to 
the admission of slavery. So much, 
at least, Senator Mason of Virginia 
informed General-elect Andrew, the 
South would insist on. The conserva- 
tive men, as they called themselves, 
prepared a petition to the Legislature 
of this state, praying for the repeal of 
the obnoxious law, and this was signed 
by "thirty-five gentlemen of eminent 
respectability." Virginia proposed a 
peace conference at Washington (to 
which all the states were requested to 
send delegates) to devise some com- 


promise by which the Southern states 
should be held in the Union. Gover- 
nor Andrew, while distrustful of this 
plan, as a matter of courtesy ap- 
pointed the delegates, taking care that 
they were men who would not be 
unmindful of the true sentiments of 
the ancient Commonwealth. 

There was even in the Republican 
party in Massachusetts, a consider- 
able number who wished Massachu- 
setts to recede from her high position. 
They were the mTi who had op; 
the nomination of Andrew for governor 
and they had the support of 6ome 
republican journals of marked in- 
fluence. Governor Banks in his vale- 
dictory address upon retiring from 
the governorship, had spoken of the 
"Public Liberty Law" as an inex- 
cusable public wrong. In addition 
to the clamor of these conservatives, 
Governor Andrew was also subjected 
to the criticism of many of the radicals, 
who feared that he might yield too 
much, and who did not hesitate to 
express their fears to each other. 

During the first month of his ad- 
ministration the Governor, through 
personal and confidential correspon- 
dence from Washington, was informed 
that an organized body of secessionists 
were preparing to seize the government 
property at Washington, displace the 
National authorities, make that city 
the capital of the Southern Confed- 
eracy, and prevent the inauguration 
of Abraham Lincoln. He was asked 
to take steps in conjunction with 
other loyal governors to quietly or- 
ganize a force which might be relied 
upon to prevent this treason. In 
accordance with this suggestion, an 
order was issued on January 16, 1S61, 
by the terms of which all members of 
the militia of Massachusetts, who 
from age, disability, or business re- 
lations, were not able to respond to 
a call for active service, were to be 
discharged and their places filled with 
able bodied men who were. Arrange- 
ments were made to provide overcoats, 
blankets, and knapsacks. Routes to 
Washington were considered. A list 
on page 33) 



Birds of the Month 



Field Secretary of the Massachusetts Audubon So 

OUR mid-winter birds are often 
wanderers from regions far 
to north and west of us. 
Most of these birds are in- 
ured to the most severe cold. Some 
of them were hatched at times when 
the temperature outside their cosy, 
feather-lined nests was near zero, and 
the snow and ice of the northern winter 
still lay deep on all their world. The 
Canada jay, for instance, nests under 
such conditions, the eggs deposited 
deep on a cosy mass of feathers which 
protect them from the exfrei^ie cold 
when the mother bird is briefly absent 
from the nest. So it is with other 

birds of the North. But the 

snows of winter alw a] 

their food supplies, and v 

reason, food is scarce they wander 

far South in search of it. 

The grosbeaks and crossbills find 
much of their sustenan - 
in the seeds of cones; fir, nice, 

and hemlock furnish; .ally 

in plentiful supply. Yet there 
5 ears when [ - is a 

scarcity of cone-. On those 
crossbills and gr< 

or starve. Hence, with no regularity 
or seeming method in their 
ings, they appear in our woodlands, at 





/ r " - <W ' 



our roadsides, or even at our very 
doors. The pine grosbeak, the spruce 
partridge, and the Canada jay all 
have their true home in the great 
Canadian belt of coniferous forests, 
which stretches from the Maine woods 
diagonally across the continent to 
Alaska. Their true home touches 
New England only on the northern 
boundary, and from it the Canada jay 
and the spruce partridge rarely wander. 
The partridge has always a food supply 
in the spruce buds which, whatever 
the crop of cones, are always to be 
had in abundance. The jay is said 
to lay up stores^for the winter, tucking 
nuts and berries into crannies and 
holes in trees much after the fashion 
of the squirrels. Be that as it may 
the bird clings closely to his home, and 
is not to be commonly seen south of it. 
The Canada jay, should one venture 

to the neighborhood of Boston, could 
be easily mistaken for an exaggerated 
chickadee, clad in gray feathers which 
have in winter time singularly the 
appearance of fur, so well are they 
fluffed out to keep him from the cold. 
But the pine grosbeak often comes 
our way in February, indeed has been 
seen far south of our latitude, casually 
as far as Washington. He, too, is so 
densely and flufnly feathered as to 
seem as if clad in fur, a sleek roly-poly 
bird which one wishes to stroke at 
first sight, and which under ordinary 
conditions may often be approached 
almost closely enough to permit it. 
He is a gray bird, too, but his gray is 
all flushed with a rose-red color, 
which makes him most beautiful 
to see. No doubt his gray mate thinks 
so too, and she in turn has an olive 
yellow tint set over her quaker-like 



feather cloak, which is equally in- 
teresting. The flocks, slow moving, 
and quite regardless of man, search 
the cone-bearing trees for food and 
hunt the roadsides for sumac berries, 
weed seeds or any other fodder which 
fortune provides. 

There are several birds of the month 
whose males show this rosy flush over 

northern bird in the mail 

hears the splendid song of the male 

far more numerously in the ['a 1 -' 

of northern New England than he 

does in those of eastern M 

The mountain ash tree ;een 

stripped of their berries by the flocl 
migrating robin-. 
South. But the whil • are 


their other colors, a flush that seems 
as if it might be caught from the re- 
flection of the aurora borealis on the 
northern snows. There are the purple 
finches, for instance, which flock about 
at this time of the year, busy seekers 
for seeds. To be sure, the purple 
finch breeds sparingly in all New 
England, but he is for all that a 

little cared for by these early migrv. 
They remain for the purple finches, 
which come for them in flocks, and 
sometimes repay the tree with a - 
twittered in its branches, not a full 
throated warble, such as they p 
forth in the delight of the nesl 
season, but a fine little song for all 
that. The srosbeaks love the white 



ash seeds as well as do the purple 
finches, and the crossbills. The male 
crossbills are red, a duller color than 
that of the finches and grosbeaks 
perhaps, but still a distinct red in the 
red crossbills, so-called, though the 
female is of a curious dull olive green, 
and the males of last year's brood 
show a mixture of both. But the 

clearer flush of this color than on any 
of the before mentioned birds. The 
redpolls are little sparrow-like, red- 
crowned chaps, that hop twittering 
about in the shrubbery when the 
ground is bare, or run over the snow, 
searching for the leafless stems of 
weeds which protrude, still crowned 
with seeds. Like the tree-sparrows 


white-winged crossbill male is flushed 
with an auroral pink which is as ad- 
mirable as that of the finches or the 

Nor are these the only winter- 
wandering birds touched with the 
colors of dawn. In February we may 
look for the redpolls, and when we find 
them note on their breasts a softer, 

they take toll of the birches, skipping 
about among the limbs and shaking 
the seeds from the cone-like pistillate 
aments, or seeking those which every 
wind scatters on the surface of the 
deep snow. In this our snowiest 
month many seed-eating birds would 
fare ill if it were not for the seeds of the 
gray birch. Other seed sources have 



o. w. holmes" mantel in the west chamber oe an old house in wayland, massach 

been by this time somewhat depleted, 
or else buried beneath the drifts. But 
no depth of snow can cover the birch 
storehouses, nor can any flocks of 
birds which come exhaust them, and 
so they hang and are scattered in 
every wind till the snows pass and the 
earth is green again. 

There is a fascination about the 
search for these dawm-tinted wander- 
ers from the far North which excels 
that of any other winter bird hunting. 
No one can predict on what day they 
will appear or where. They will be 
tame and friendly while they stay, 
but any moment may see the flocks in 
the air again winging their way to 
some other mysterious destination. 
Then they may appear no more until 
another winter, or perhaps for many 
winters. Most mysterious and in- 
teresting of all, however, to the New- 
England bird student is the evening 
grosbeak, a bird a trifle smaller than 

the pine grosbeak, somewhat similarly 
formed, but of such striking plumage 
as to immediately cause comment 
and question among even those least 
familiar with birds. The evening gros- 
beak comes in a motley array of yellow, 
white and black, and he comes rarely. 
Two years ago flocks were seen in 
many places in New England. Since 
then they have not appeared. Before 
that they had not been seen for many 
years, but during the winter and 
spring of 1900 there was a considerable 
incursion of these beautiful b: 

Like the other grosbeaks they are 
seed eaters, but they are birds of the 
far nortrnvest, being common to the 
pine forests of the northern Pa< 
coast and of British Columbia. Com- 
monly in winter they wander east and 
south into Manitoba, and often farther 
east, but their visits to New England 
are rare and are always hailed with 
delight by bird lovers. The seeds 



of the box elder, a western tree hardy 
in New England, and planted here 
in many places, seem particularly to 
attract them, and on winters when 
they are to be seen at all they may be 
sought with best chance of success 
in the neighborhood of these trees. 

Nor, among the winter wanderers 
should one forget the good old snow- 
bunting, which in the northern New 
England states is so common a winter 
visitant. In southern New England, 
especially back from the coast this 
bird is not so common, yet he goes 
far south of that, most likely to be 
seen along the coast. It is the only 
one of our sparrow-like birds which 
has white predominating on wings and 
tail as well as body. In its far northern 
home in the breeding season, the male 
snow buntings are conspicuously beau- 
tiful in white and black, but when 
they reach our fields in winter they 
are wearing their winter coats of 
rusty brown. Even then they are 
beautiful birds, and a flock of them 

about the door is worth all the cold 
and snow that brings them. I have 
seen a single male snowbunting 
hanging about in the shade of a dock 
on the St. John's River, near Jackson- 
ville, Florida, in winter, seeming to 
realize that he was out of place so 
far South, and to wish to be in the 
shade and as inconspicuous as possible. 
The bird only rarely occurs in our 
extreme southern states, however, 
and indeed is not common in Massa- 

Although the snowbuntings often 
wander from their far northern homes 
to our fields in winter, and even farther 
South, the North is not without the 
cheery presence of other flocks. An 
observer writes of seeing them in mid- 
winter in the far North, fat as butter- 
balls, chasing one another over the 
deep snows in zero gales, and singing 
blithely the while. Even these were 
very likely wanderers from regions 
still farther north, for this beautiful 
bird nests as far north as the land 





the rocks and snow by 

or along the win winter 




extends, and sings its dainty song 
wherever mid-summer gives a bit of 
grass peeping through the gray tundra 
moss left bare by the melting Arctic 

Tht snow buntings come down from 
the North with the shore larks, which 
also are birds bred in Greenland, 
Labrador, and Newfoundland, and 
the flocks mingle along the marshes 
of our eastern coast. With them, too, 
come often the Lapland longspurs, 
sparrow-like birds wdth curiously long 
hind toenails, and their breasts heavily 
marked with black. Their possible 
presence among the shore larks and 
buntings gives the flocks added interest 
to the observer who seeks them among 


The tnosl far-reaching for 

bird protection ever seriou 
side-red by a Legislative body in the 
I Fnited Stafc . Bii I I. 

the McLean Bill 'for Federal I 
tection for Migrator) Bii I . ■■■' 
now pending in the S 
ington, and the Weeks Bill of 
character now on the calendar in the 
1 louse. 

Since George Shi:, in- 

troduced in Congress a bill of similar 
character in 1904, similar i 
have followed, but all ha with 

the same fate, viz., death at the 
((.'on tinned \~ 


The Republican Party in 

{Continued from page 24) 

of- steamers suitable for transporting 
men and munitions of war was made 
out. This was all decided upon in 
the early days of February, 1861. 

These preparations, the reasons 
whereof, were not generally appre- 
ciated by the most of the people of 
the state, they not believing that war 
would come, were the result of the 
personal investigation of Governor 
Andrew, who before his inauguration 
had visited Washington, conferred 
with public men of both sections of 
the country, had arranged that he 
should receive the earliest information 
possible as to future movements, and 
established communications with a 
prominent congressman from Massa- 
chusetts, by whom he was duly posted 
as to what was in progress. Im- 
mediately after his inauguration he 
sought the advice of men who had 
been officers in the regular army of 
the U.S.A., as to the necessary 
equipments for troops in active serv- 
ice, and in camp; learned from men 
familiar with the shipping of Massa- 
chusetts, what vessels suitable as 
transports could be had, and was in- 
formed by persons of experience what 
routes to Washington and other places 
were the preferable. 

It has been claimed for Gen. Benj. 
F. Butler, if not by him, that it was 
upon his advice that the Governor 
took these steps of preparation for 
the impending conflict. On this point, 
Henry Lee, an officer on the staff of 
Governor Andrew, at the time of the 
inception and carrying out of the 
steps above mentioned, says, "I beg 
to state that General Butler's advice 
upon this matter was neither asked 
nor received by Governor Andrew, 
and his first and last word was a re- 
quest that a mill in which he was a 
director, might manufacture the cloth 

for the overcoats." In 1892 Mr. Lee 
wrote on the same subject as follows: 
" Contemporaries attributed these pre- 
paratory movements to Governor An- 
drew and blamed and ridiculed him 
accordingly; they rightly held him 
responsible, for it was he, and none 
but he, who took the wise initiative 
which placed Massachusetts then in 
the van." It is well that we have as 
authority on this subject one who was 
so close to Governor Andrew, so 
familiar with the facts in the case, 
and whose word as to the true state 
of things will not be successfully 

By the first of April the militia 
had been filled up with men ready for 
active service. Contracts for two 
thousand overcoats, blankets, and 
other equipments had been made; and 
when on April 15 the call came for 
twenty companies of three months 
men for the defence of the National 
Capital, Massachusetts was ready. 
The first armed body, fully equipped, 
to land in Washington were sons of 
"The Old Bay State," who had, on 
April 19, fought their way through 
Baltimore, over streets reddened with 
their blood, re-consecrating that date 
to the cause of Freedom and Human 
Rights. Requisitions for more men 
were made during the week, and were 
filled. In six days after the Presi- 
dent's call, the quota of Massachu- 
setts, 3,120 men, and an excess 
of several hundred, were on their 
way to the front. For nearly four 
years, and during the whole period 
of the war, her full share and more 
of the public burdens was borne. Her 
sister states in New England re- 
sponded with equal spirit. Maine, 
New Hampshire, Vermont, Rhode 
Island, and Connecticut, each and 
all forwarded, as soon as possible, the 




men they were called upon to furnish. 
The conduct of affairs was in the 
hands of the Republican state au- 
thorities, and there was a tendency 
to hold them responsible for any mis- 
takes, and to criticize their action. 
For instance, when steps were taken to 
have in readiness overcoats, blankets, 
and equipments in anticipation of 
the call which later came, it was a 
subject for merriment, and Governor 
Andrew was the target of ridicule 
on the part of his political opponents. 
The patriotic outbreak of April, 
1861, and the unselfish sentiments 
of devotion to the Union which were 
developed when Fort Sumter was 
fired on, and which found expression 
in the popular uprising of those days, 
did not later save Governor Andrew's 
administration, and the National ad- 
ministration from severe criticism and 
active opposition. The later day 
critics were not all outside the Re- 
publican party, and the opposilion 
took form at the state election in 1862, 
when some good men, doubting the 
capacity M the President, grieved at 
the disasters to the Union armies on 
the peninsula before Richmond, in 
the Valley of Virginia, and at the 
second Bull Run, and carried away by 
their admiration of General McClellan, 
who had been removed by the Presi- 
dent after his failure to follow up and 
attack the Rebel army on its retreat 
from Antectam, united with the Demo- 
ocratic party in Massachusetts, and 
styling themselves the "People's 
party," nominated General Charles 
Devens for governor in opposition to 
Governor Andrew. This nomination 
was adopted by the Democrats, but 
their ticket was signally defeated. 
A part of the scheme of the People's 
party managers was to defeat the re- 
election of Senator Sumner, whose 
term expired March 4, 1863. A 
Republican Legislature returned him 
for another six years. General Devens 
retained his position in the field, 
returned to the Republican party and 
later received high honors at its hands. 
In his early years as a Whig, he had 
held the office of United States Mar- 

shal in 1851, and 1852, during the 
administration of Vice-President Mil- 
more, who succeeded to the vacancy 
caused by the death of President 
Taylor. When Governor Andrew had 
held office as such for nearly the tra- 
ditional three years, which was the 
time allotted to successful candidates, 
there were ambitious aspirants who 
hoped to succeed him. A movement, 
large in point of numbers was started, 
but notice having been served upon 
its originators that they would be 
fought in every school district in 
Massachusetts by Governor Andrew's 
friends, they prudently dropped out 
of the fight and Andrew was elected 
in 1863, and again in 1864, without 
further serious opposition. But the 
years of his service were years fraught 
with danger to the nation, and full of 
anxiety to him. Calls for additional 
troops must be met; the depleted 
ranks of the veteran regiments must 
be filled; new regiments must be 
raised and hurried forward. Massa- 
chusetts was not laggard. A draft 
was ordered by the authorities at 
Washington in the summer of lS62.but 
was twice postponed, when it appeared 
that so far as Massachusetts was con- 
cerned her quota would be filled with- 
out it, and filled it was, for her gover- 
nor overcame all difficulties, not the 
least of which was the red tape of the 
L r nited States mustering officers, whose 
chief duty seemed to be to retard the 
raising of troops; refusing to muster 
and pay the volunteers unless the 
rules of the circumlocation branch of 
the War Department were strictly 
followed. In the early fall of 1S62 
the Governor telegraphed to the Secre- 
tary of War. "We have more than 
5,000 nine months militia ready to 
go into service immediately, who 
are depressed and discouraged by 
these refusals. Why cannot mustering 
and disbursing officers be appointed by 
you who will co-operate heartily in the re- 
cruitment instead of inventingobstacles. 
... If the whole recruitment, trans- 
portation, and equipment were left to 
the state, as last year, we should be a 
month ahead of our present condition.'' 



While this work was going on the 
Republicans of Massachusetts were 
inspired by the hope and belief that 
the President would soon issue the 
Proclamation of Emancipation. It 
was urged upon him by the Governor, 
the senators, and other men high in 
the councils of the state. It lay very 
near to the Governor's heart, and was 
advocated by him on all suitable 
occasions. Speaking at a Methodist 
Camp Meeting at Martha's Vineyard, 
on a Sunday in August, he said, re- 
ferring to the hoped for measure, 
"But I have seen no discouragements; 
I bate not one jot of hope; I believe 
that God rules above and that, either 
with our aid or without it, He has 
determined to let the people (i. e., 
slaves) go. But the confidence I have 
in my own mind that the appointed hour 
has nearly come, makes me all the 
more certain of the final triumph of 
our Union arms, because I do not 
believe that this great investment of 
Providence is to be wasted." Gover- 
nor Andrew was a man of strong 
religious convictions and deep religious 
faith, as witness the incident related 
by Mr. Edward W. Kinsley which 
happened about this time. The Gov- 
ernor had sent for Kinsley, who went 
to the State House, and found the 
Governor alone, who said to him, 
" Somebody must go to Washington. 
I command you to go. There is 
something going on . . . this is a 
momentous time." "He turned sud- 
denly to me and said" (Kinsley adds), 
"You believe in prayer, don't you?" 
"I said, Why, of course." "Then 
let us pray," "and he knelt right down 
at the chair, we both kneeled down, 
and I never heard such a prayer in 
all my life, I was never so near the 
throne of God, except when my mother 
died, as I was then." 

In September, 1862, the Procla- 
mation of Emancipation was issued 
and Andrew's efforts in that direc- 
tion were crowned with success. 
From his young manhood he had 
labored for the freedom of the 
negro, and his Thanksgiving Proc- 
lamation of 1862, replete with scrip- 

tural quotations, was a poem of 
praise which showed that he was a 
close student of the Bible. 

The first day of January, 1863, 
found the negro a man — a free man — 
and Governor Andrew took up another 
work, a work not only for the country, 
but also for the newly enfranchised 
race. The negro must be a soldier. 
By persistent agitation he secured 
from the Secretary of War, authority 
to raise "crops of infantry for the 
volunteer military service," and a con- 
cession that they might "include per- 
sons of African descent, organized 
into separate corps." Andrew, by 
January 30, 1863, had picked out the 
men he wanted for colonel and lieut.- 
colonel of the proposed negro regi- 
ment, and the work of recruiting it 
commenced. This was the famed 
54th regiment. Early in May its 
ranks were filled, and then another 
colored regiment, the 55th, was or- 
ganized. Later, during Andrew's ad- 
ministration a regiment of colored 
cavalry, the 5th Massachusetts was 
raised and sent into the service .^"SS^^ 

Naturally the chief concern of 
Governor Andrew's administration, 
during its first four years, was to do 
all it might to sustain the National 
administration in the prosecution of 
the war. How well this was done 
history has told. Massachusetts has 
no reason to blush for any short- 
comings in that regard. When the 
first telegram calling for troops came, 
the laconic answer of her Governor 
was, "Despatch received. By what 
route shall we send ? " Following it up 
the same day with a request for per- 
mission to send three regiments in- 
stead of two, as called for. He main- 
tained the same attitude during the war. 
The internal affairs of the state were not 
neglected. The Massachusetts Institute 
of Technology was chartered and funds 
appropriated for its support. Agricul- 
tural instruction was established under 
the auspices of the state; Teachers' In- 
stitutes inaugurated; Normal Schools 
fostered; work upon the Hoosac Tunnel 
resumed and legislation for the com- 
mon good passed. 

{To be continued) 

The Guardian 




'Gene Comes Home 

ENE was very happy on the 
road from Boston to St. 
Croix. The weather re- 
mained fine most of the 
way, but when it was foul he had no 
difficulty in finding shelter. There 
was not a farmer's wife who did 
not put her best on the table when, 
with his blue eyes brightening in his 
bronzed face, he asked for food in re- 
turn for work. Sometimes the farmer 
himself, to the disgust of his wife as a 
rule, insisted upon actual work in pay- 
ment, and when this was the case 'Gene 
worked cheerfully enough. But more 
often than not he was received as a wel- 
come passer-by, for when questioned 
he was ready with stories of the tropics 
which made the eyes of his listeners 
grow big in wonder. More than one 
farmer's lass went to bed hugging close 
the memory of this brave adventurer 
as her hero. At first he told his tale 
in a spirit of fun, but as he watched 
its effect and saw how readily it was 
believed he grew serious until he half 
believed the narrative himself. It 
wasn't his fault that he had missed the 
reality by the margin of a night. 

If under ordinary circumstances the 
truth of his yarns would have been 
questioned, his bronze face, his youth, 
and, above all, the parrot left not a 
shadow of doubt. He had grown fond 
of this bird. The pretty red and green 
creature perched upon his shoulder 
during his long daily walks had fur- 
nished him both companionship and 
entertainment. The bird was a con- 
stant surprise and taught him many 
new nautical terms of which he made 
good use. In his turn 'Gene taught 
him to say "Julie," and by careful 
training schooled him to avoid com- 
36 * Begun in the February, 1912, number. 

bining the name with some of his pet 
oaths. There was nothing ten time 

in the bird's earlier wild e 

"Damn. Damn. Julie. Shiver me 

timbers — damn Julie." 

In true sailor fashoil I 'bought 

little of that other girl lie left behind 
him. He had absolute confidence in 
Bella's ability to get along by hei 
and he had been as generous as it was 
possible for him to be in leaving her 
all of his last week's sala: fur- 

nishings of the flat would I 
to clear the rent, and so he did not see 
why she was not as well off as b 
she met him. He liked to feei that 
she would miss him for a little while 
and probably would cry a little, but 
when all was over she would settle 
back into her old rut. Possibly 
day he might return to Boston and 
look her up. He had no definite plan 
in mind. He was too content, too full 
of life, to do any scheming. 

In this way he reached St. Croix on 
the thirteenth day of his departure 
from Boston. The sky was blue and 
the air crisp when after a night in the 
woods he arose, washed his face in a 
spring, and going on to the village se- 
cured a breakfast from a friend. He 
next visited the village store, where he 
was readily given credit for a new blue 
suit, a blue flannel shirt and a loose 
black tie. At the barber shop he se- 
cured a hair cut and shave. When in 
the middle of the forenoon he finally 
started for the home of Julie, he looked 
like a hardy and prosperous seaman. 

He discovered himself a good deal of 
a hero, and passed through the town 
stopped by dozens who wished to hear 
further of his adventures. By the time 
he neared the Moulton house he was 
very well content with himself. 

Then, at a turn in the road, he met 
Flint. The latter had drunk just 

Copyright, 1912, Small, Maynard & Co. 



enough to be comfortably hospitable. 
At heart he too was a vagabond and he 
greeted 'Gene like an old friend. 

"Glad to see you home again, 
'Gene," he said, extending a long thin 
hand. "Where ye been?" 

"Just off on a little cruise," an- 
swered 'Gene nonchalantly. 

Flint's faded eyes brightened. He 
had pleasant, gentle features, and in 
spite of gray hair at his temples looked 
more like a boy than a man. 

"To Jamaicy? Don't tell me ye've 
ben to Jamaicy." 

In the single year which embraced 
the sum total of his own adventures 
Flint had visited that port. All his 
pet stories centered about that corner. 
He cherished it as his own. 

"No," answered 'Gene. "Just to 
South Americy. To Rio mostly. " 

"Ye don't tell," answered Flint with 
a sigh of relief. 

He looked cautiously about. He 
beckoned 'Gene mysteriously into the 
bushes by the side of the road. He ex- 
tended his hand again. 

"It's good to meet a shipmate," he 
said. "Do ye ever taste anything?" 

" Don't care if I do, " answered 'Gene 
with a touch of bravado. 

Flint produced a bottle from his 
pocket and offered it. 'Gene drew the 
cork and swallowed a couple of mouth- 
fuls of what tasted like crude petro- 
leum. But it went to his head in- 
stantly. It was all that was needed to 
clinch his self-delusion. He handed 
back the bottle with a hypocritical 
smack of his lips. 

"Good stuff," he averred. 

Flint held the bottle to his own 
mouth and nearly emptied it. 

"I reckon ye seen a thing or two? 
Eh?" Flint coaxed him. 

"More'n you'd find in this town in 
a hundred year," answered 'Gene. 

He sat down and began his yarns all 
over again. But he elaborated them 
now as never before, and as he talked 
on he seemed to see Julie listening to 
him in wide-eyed wonder. The vision 
soon grew so entrancing that he felt 
eager to be off to her. He concluded 

"So I shipped back to Boston and 
here I am." 

He rose. 

"Any of that stuff left?" 

Flint willingly handed over the 
bottle, and 'Gene took another long 

"I'll return the favor some day," 
'Gene assured him, as he moved off. 
"Sorry I can't stay longer, but I've 
got some important business, very im- 
portant business." 

"Good luck, mate," muttered Flint, 
as he dreamily waved good-by. 

'Gene walked the remainder of the 
distance with his mind inflamed with 
desire of Julie. No dream that his 
heated brain conjured up now seemed 
too wild to come true. The parrot 
caught the contagion and chattered 
like a magpie. 

So he came to the clean white house 
sitting quietly back from the road. 

A Promise Redeemed 

ON Friday afternoon Nat had 
begged Julie not to go home 
until the next day. 
"The auction's to-morrow," 
he explained. 

"What auction?" she asked, as 
though this were news to her. 

"At the Lovell place. I told ye we 
could pick up a lot of nice things for the 

"What house?" she inquired. 

"Your house," he answered. 

Her cheeks flamed scarlet as she met 
his eyes. 

"Nat," she protested, "you have no 
right to say such a thing as that." 

"I'm only tellin' ye the truth," he 

" It isn't the truth. It's absurd for 
you to say so. Why — why, it's ri- 

"I told ye from the beginning that 
I built the house for you. From sill 
to roof I built it for you, Julie." 

"But you can't do a thing like that. 
I told you from the beginning that you 

"But I did, " he explained simply. 



"But you shouldn't." 

"But I did." 

"Nat," she exploded petulantly, "I 
can't seem to make you understand 
anything. You always go ahead and 
do as you please." 

"Will you come to the auction?" he 
asked, returning to his first point. 

"No," she refused flatly, "I'm go- 
ing home to-night." 

Her refusal hurt him. She saw that. 
But he was always forcing her to hurt 
him. And in doing that he was always 
forcing her to hurt herself, for in spite 
of her indisputable right to her position 
it cut her to the quick to see that look 
of dumb resignation creep into his 

"If you would only be reasonable, 
Nat," she added. 

"What do ye mean by reasonable?" 
he asked. 

"Why — why, doing as I tell you," 
she answered. 

"I do all I can that ye ask me," he 

She smiled. 

"The trouble is that you do more," 
she protested. 

"And that isn't half enough," he 
answered quickly. "Ye don't know 
all that I want to do and can't. Ye 
don't know — " 

But she crowded her two hands over 
her ears and began to shake her head. 

"I won't listen," she cried. "I — 
I'm going home." 

So that night he drove her to St. 
Croix and left her. But before he 
turned his horse she looked up at him 
half fearing, half pleading. 

"You mustn't go over there to-mor- 
row and spend all your money." 

"I'll spend what I have," he an- 

"Then you won't mind me?" she 
pleaded, her voice grown tender. 

"No," he answered. "I can't mind 
ye about some things." 

"Then," she trembled, "don't ever 
blame me, Nat. You'll promise that? " 

"Blame ye for what?" 

" For anything, " she insisted eagerly. 

" I couldn't if I tried, " he answered. 

She watched from the doorstep until 

the dark swallowed him up, and then 
Stood there for a moment with 
heart beating faster than usual. She 
liked him best when he was arbitrary 
and domineering. She liked him best 
when he was as he had been on the 
mountain top and took matters into his 
own hands, leaving her the satisfa< 
of feeling quite powerless. There were 
moments when, if he had turned and 
with tightened lips commanded L« 
come, she would have come. If to- 
night, for instance, he had refused to 
put her down at her home and had 
driven her straight to the parsonage, 
she felt as though she must per: 
have gone with him. The thought 
left her quite dizzy. And from there 
they would have driven back to the 
house on the hill. In spite of all she 
said, she could not shake herself free 
from the feeling that the -ally 

was hers. She knew how he must have 
toiled to build it. She knew that he 
could not have done it for himself alone. 
Though she had not yet been inside 
the doors, she knew every nook and 
cranny in every room. And to-mor- 
row he would bring back furnishings for 
them and make the house more a liv- 
ing thing than ever. 

All that night she was restless. The 
thought that Nat was going right 
ahead frightened her. She felt like 
one in the clutch of a maelstrom. In 
spite of all she said, she was powerless 
to check him. In spite of all her sense 
of loyalty she found herself less and 
less inclined to check him. That was 
the sober truth. Her arguments 
against him were becoming pitifully 
weak. And the man who should have 
helped her be strong had never 
written her since he left. She had 
been driven to one excuse after an- 
other to explain this, but these too 
were now becoming pitifully weak. In 
the dark she called out to him: 

"'Gene — 'Gene, please come b 

The morning found her thoughts 
more sober, but the problem no less 
pressing. After breakfast she went 
back to her room resolved to come to 
some decision. In the first place. 



matter of justice, she returned to 
'Gene. She reviewed every episode 
of the winter before and brought to 
life again every one of her moods of 
those days. At first 'Gene had seemed 
to her only a boy and she had laughed 
at his youthfulness. She had allowed 
him to walk home with her every night 
and finally allowed him to call in the 
evening. Still, month after month, 
he remained only an interesting young- 
ster. A touch of the daredevil in him 
had appealed to her — a touch of the 
adventurer. He talked wildly and 
loosely of his proposed adventures in 
foreign lands until all of a sudden he had 
told her that he was really going. With 
her cheeks scarlet she recalled the night 
he had climbed to her window. She 
felt again the hot pressure of his hand, 
his demand that she come out and talk 
with him. Then — the rest! Her hot 
cheeks burned with the memory of that; 
her lips became dry. She had lost her 
head that evening, but even now she 
felt the grasp of his arms and the brush 
of his lips. Then in the cool of the next 
morning it had all been repeated, and 
she had watched him trudge off over 
the hill. Night after night, since then, 
she had dreamed of him and waited 
for word of him. Following this, she 
had pictured his adventures night after 
night. She smiled now at his promise 
of a tiger skin for her. And the parrot 
— twenty parrots! That was only the 
brave promise of a lad, but neverthe- 
less it had pleased her then and it 
pleased her now. Nat would never 
have made any such promise. He 
would have trudged off with his lips 
tight closed over his thoughts. When 
in port, instead of going off after tigers 
or parrots, Nat probably would have 
found a snug boarding-house and 
written letters until the ship sailed. 
She smiled again. Dear, good, kind, 
sober Nat! If Nat only had a touch 
more of 'Gene in him or if 'Gene only 
had a touch more of Nat in him, there 
would be no such problem as now con- 
fronted her. But what might be didn't 
alter what was. She forced herself 
back to the facts. 
I One of the facts was that she couldn't 

remain at Hio after the fall term 
with things as they were. She would- 
n't trust herself to do that. Besides, 
with Nat in the woods it would be a 
very stupid place. She wondered 
what he would do with the house when 
he was away. If he should lock the 
front door and board up the windows, 
she would die of loneliness. He must 
promise not to do that. She would 
ask him to leave the curtains up, just 
as though some one were living there. 
Even then it would look deserted with- 
out sight of him at nightfall working 
about the place. She had watched 
him up there every evening after sup- 
per, either tidying up the grounds or 
busy about some bit of carpentering 
inside the house itself. She almost 
died of curiosity every time she heard 
his hammer, and once went so far as to 
peek in a window at him. She had 
heard him whistling softly to himself. 
It was one of the chansons her mother 
had taught her. And now, just about 
this time, he was at the Lovell place 
buying chairs and tables and what 
not, while she was here having no part 
in it. A bit resentfully she concluded 
that he ought to have made her go 
with him. He had no right to choose 
all by himself. There was a Grand- 
father's clock there which she wanted 
very much. It would go very well op- 
posite the fireplace. It had a quaint 
face, with a parrot painted — 

Once again she was drawn up sharply. 
She blushed at her presumption. The 
next second she blamed Nat for her 
lapse. He was always leading her on. 
Then, below her window she heard a 
strange, chattering caw. She sprang 
back into the middle of the room, as 
she had the night that 'Gene climbed 
to her casement. Her breath stopped 
short. She listened with cheeks as 
white as marble. Once again the 
sound was repeated, and this time she 
made out of the unintelligible gibber- 
ish accompanying it, the single word 
"Rio de Janeiro." With her knees 
weak she crept to the window and 
looked out. She saw by the front door 
the tall form of a young man. She saw 
his bronzed face. She saw the parrot 



on his arm. She couldn't move her 
lips. She sank into a chair and waited. 
The sound of the knocker on the front 
door brought her to her feet and sent 
her stumbling down the stairs. But 
before she opened the door she paused 
for breath — dizzy, confused, fright- 
ened. She heard the knocker raised 
a second time, and fearing this would 
bring her mother to the door, suddenly 
swung it open. She found herself 
staring into 'Gene's smiling blue eyes. 
She heard him breathe her name. The 
sound of it instantly took her back six 
months, so that it seemed but yester- 
day that he had left. 

" 'Gene, " she answered. " It's you ! " 

"Yes," he answered. "And here's 
your parrot." 

He held the bird out to her, perched 
on the forefinger of his hand. She 
drew back from the strange creature, 
which ruffled up its feathers and open- 
ing its beak wide squawked a warning 
at her. 

'"Gene!" she panted. 

"Can't ye come down the road a 
little way? I want to talk to ye afore 
I see the folks." 

"I — I don't know," she faltered. 
"I — I can't think." 

He reached for her hand. 

"Come," he insisted. 

She obeyed him, and by his side 
crossed the yard. They reached the 
road unseen, and he took her arm. He 
led her around a bend out of sight of 
the house. There he held her at 
arm's length a moment in delirious ad- 
miration. Not in aH his travels had 
he seen so fresh and fair a woman. In 
her person she embodied all, that in 
sudden revulsion against the sordid 
staleness of his recent life, he craved. 
Every curve of her young form ex- 
pressed grace and charm. But, above 
all, she was dew-fresh, like a flower in 
the early morning. 

She lowered her eyes in confusion 
at his hot gaze. He seized her by the 
shoulders and drew her gasping for 
breath into his arms. 

"Julie," he whispered, "I didn't 
know I loved ye so much. I can't 
get my breath. I can't wait another 

day — another hour for ye. You're 
mine now — now." 

"'Gene," she choked. 

"Aye — call my name over and 
again. I haven't heard it since I left 
ye. It's like a new name, and the 
sound of it from you makes rne feel 
like a new man. I feel's though I'd 
been gone twenty years — I acL 
for you." 

He kissed her hair, kissed her at the 
temples, and she in a daze suffered it. 
After all, this was 'Gene — her 'Gene. 
They had plighted their troth b' 
he left, and though QO* med 

strange he was still the san. I 

"Look up at me and tell me ye still 
love me," he insisted. 

She raised her eyes. He v. 
handsome and hardy. She saw him 
in a mist, but he was surely her 'Gene. 

"Tell me, tell me," he whispered. 

"I — I think I do," she faltered. 

"No. I'll have none of that. Tell 
me out and out. Tell me, "Gene, I 
love you.'" 

"'Gene, I love you," she repeated. 

"Is it six months since I heard 

"It seems very long," she answered. 
" You never wrote to me. " 

" I didn't," he confessed. " It seems 
though I never had time. I've been 
through a lot since I saw you." 

"And now you're back safe and 
sound," she said in awe. 

"And lovin' you more than ever." 

The parrot, who had hopped to the 
ground and perched upon a rock, be- 
gan to chatter. 

"Rio. Rio. Rio de Janeiro." 

"You went to Rio:" she asked in a 
trembling whisper. 

"To Rio and a hundred other 
places," he answered. "I've more to 
tell ye than would take a year. " 

The whiskey was still inflaming his 
brain. He hardly knew what he said, 
what he did. He was obsessed by the 
one idea to make her his forever. He 
wouldn't risk leaving her alone an- 
other day. 

"Julie," he burst out, "before I see 
any one else, before I go home, I want 
to make you mine for good. " 



"What do you mean?" she stam- 
mered, sensing his meaning. 

"I want ye to go down to the Rev- 
erend Gideon now — this minute. I 
want him to marry us within an hour. " 

"Within an hour?" she gasped. 

" Sooner, if we can find him. What's 
the use of waiting?" he ran on, read- 
ing the fear in her eyes; "we don't 
want any wedding. We've waited 
long enough." 

"'Gene — why, I couldn't think of 
that. I — " 

"Yes, you can, you must. Then 
we'll come home and I'll have time to 
talk to you." 

"But father — mother — " 

"What difference does it make 
whether they know before or after? 
I tell you I can't wait. And, for all I 
know, I might have to leave again in a 

She clung to his arm. 

"No, no, 'Gene, you wouldn't go 
again, you wouldn't leave me again." 

"I can't tell. But if I was safe 
married to you — Ah, let's not talk 
about it. Let's go. Let's hurry." 

He took her arm. For a step or two 
she went reluctantly, and then, catch- 
ing the contagion of his passion, she 
put her arm within his. She did not 
know what she was about. She simply 
followed. In this fashion they pro- 
ceeded to the town clerk and secured a 
license and then to the parsonage. In 
this daze she found herself sitting in 
the parlor. She heard 'Gene talking 
in a low voice to the minister, and the 
next thing she was conscious of was 
Mrs. Gideon's presence. The latter 
was speaking to her. 

" What's this, child ? You want to be 
married this way? " 

'Gene swung his eyes towards her. 

" Yes," she nodded. 

" Do your parents know about it? " 

"Not yet. But — but we're going 
right back to them." 

'Gene stepped forward. 

"We don't want to bother them 
with a wedding. And I may have to 
leave any time." 

The good lady shook her head, but 
there seemed nothing to do except 

carry out their wishes. In a few mo- 
ments the tall lank form of the Rev. 
Elisha Gideon was standing before 
them, prayer-book in hand. In a deep, 
impressive voice he read the service. 
Julie answered his questions with trem- 
bling lips. It all sounded very solemn 
to her, and she was startled almost into 
crying when the minister lifted his 
head and glaring about the room de- 
manded that "If any man knew why 
these two should not be joined together, 
let him now speak or forever after hold 
his peace." 'Gene too started at this. 
He glanced over his shoulder towards 
the door. But this crisis was safely 
passed, and he slipped upon her finger 
the gold band which had been his 
grandmother's and which he had al- 
ways worn. The ceremony was over 
in a marvelously short time. 

'Gene took her arm and led her out 
of the house and back down the road 
to the bend. There they found the 
parrot hopping wildly about and swear- 
ing terribly. In their excitement they 
had forgotten him. 

" Damn. Damn. Damn, " he croaked, 
with such venomous anger that the 
words sounded ominous. With a shiver 
Julie turned to 'Gene. 

"Oh," she sobbed, "what have you 
made me do, 'Gene?" 

He kissed her and patted her gently. 

"There, there!" He tried to quiet 
her. "That ain't a pretty way for a 
bride to act." 

"I — I can't help it." 

The parrot pecked at her ankles. 
She clung to her husband. 

"Take him away. He frightens 
me," she cried. 

'Gene turned towards the bird, and 
lifting his heavy boot kicked him into 
the bushes. The parrot lay there where 
he fell, a helpless bunch of green and 
yellow feathers. In horror Julie ran a 
few steps towards the house. She 
covered her eyes with her hands. 

"That's what I'll do to any one who 
bothers my Julie," he growled. He 
followed to her side. 

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me 
for a minute." she choked, thrusting 
out her hand. 



"Look here, Julie," he broke in. 
"This ain't any way to act. The 
trouble is you're scared. Now you go 
into the house. I'll go on to the vil- 
lage, and then in an hour I'll come 
back. You'll feel all right by then." 

"Yes," she nodded. "Go now." 

But he seized her in his arms and 
kissed her again and again before he 
left. From the bushes came a feeble 
dying croak. 

"Julie. Ju-" 

The feathers fluttered a second and 
then settled down limply. 

A Toast to the Bride 

WITH his head splitting with 
pain from the drink and the 
excitement, 'Gene made his 
way back to St. Croix. His 
lips were parched, and with the re- 
action his spirits sank to abysmal 
depths. He was haunted with the dy- 
ing croak of the parrot, haunted by 
that last look in Julie's eyes, haunted 
by the sepulchral demand of the parson, 
"If any man know reason why these 
two should not be joined together, 
let him now speak or forever after hold 
his peace." The words conjured up 
the white tense face of Bella, as though 
it were flashed before his eyes on a 

There on the lonely road he an- 
swered that look out loud: 

"We weren't married, I tell ye. It 
was all a mistake. Barney waren't 
any Justice at all." 

But still the gray eyes stared at him 
as they used to stare up from the sew- 
ing when he came home unsteady on 
his feet. Only now it was worse, a 
hundred times worse. Had Bella been 
within reach of him at that moment, 
he would have been sorely tempted to 
strike her. She had no right to bother 
him this way. He had been fair to her. 
He had paid all the bills while they 
lived together and had taken her to the 
beach and places. He had left her all 
he had when he went. Lots of men 
wouldn't have done this much. He had 
met a dozen men who had done worse 

by their wives without being blamed 
for it. 

The trouble with him was that he 
needed a drink. If lie had just one 
drink, it would straighten him out. He 
always felt like this when he needed a 
drink. Coming to the IDOt where he 
had left Flint, he pushed through the 
bushes. The old man lay there still 
asleep, with a gentle smile around his 
weak mouth. 'Gene roused him. 

"Flint," he called 

The old man rose to his elbow. He 
rubbed his eyes. 

"What's matter?" he inquired 

'Gene stooped and shook him by the 

"See here, Flint," he called. "I've 
got to have a drink. I'm dying for a 
drink. Got anything left?" 

Flint shook his head. 

"Not a drop," he answered. 

"But ye know where ye can get 

Flint looked thoughtful. 

"When I was down in Jamaicy, I 
had all the rum I could drink — all I 
could drink. " 

"But ye can get some now. I know 
ye can. See here — ye get a quart 
and to-morrow I'll pay ye anything ye 
ask for it." 

Flint shook his head. 

" If I was down in Jamaicy now — I 
was dreamin' 'bout that. What did 
you wake me up for?" 

"Look-a-here," 'Gene ran on in des- 
peration. "Ye'll do that for a ship- 
mate, won't ye: Ye know what 'tis 
to go broke?" 

I don't know nothin' else," an- 
swered Flint. "Irs hell ain't it?" 

"I can get the money to-morrow 
from Nat, " 'Gene whined on. " Come^ 
get up. Just a quart — and ye can 
have half of it." 

"Ye'll pav to-morrer?" 


Flint made his feet. He rubbed his 
heavv eves. 

"All right." he agreed. 

He paused suspiciously. 

"I've gotter friend thet'll give it to 
me, but he don't sell none. " 



"I know, I know," answered 'Gene 

He took Flint's arm and hurried him 
into the road. The latter protested 
and finally stopped short. 

"I ain't goneter run," he declared. 

" That's right, " agreed 'Gene. " No 
hurry. But for Gawd's sake crawl 
anyhow." ' 

Flint led him into the village and to 
a small squalid house in the rear of the 
post-office. He was greeted at the 
door by a loose-jointed, loose-featured 
young man whom 'Gene recognized as 
Al Foley. 'Gene extended his hand in 
a cordial greeting. 

" Hello, Al ! " he said. " I'm darned 
glad to see ye again." 

Al looked suspicious. It was the 
first time 'Gene had ever more than 
nodded in his direction. 

Flint stepped to the front. The for- 
malities necessary to secure a drink in 
St. Croix were as nicely established as 
in the diplomatic service. 

"'Gene here," he said, "was taken 
sudden sick. I didn't know but what 
ye might have a little Jamaicy ginger 
or suthin'." 

Foley shook his head. 

"I ain't gut nothin'," he answered. 

"I see," nodded Flint. "Maybe 
now a cup of hot water would help. " 

"Hot water be damned!" snorted 

Flint nudged him in the ribs. 

"With a little sugar and maybe 
suthin' hot," added Flint. 

"Reckon I can give ye hot water if 
thet's all ye want," nodded Foley. 

Flint led the way in, with 'Gene 
crowding close at his heels. The first 
point was won in getting inside the 
house. As they entered the sitting- 
room a half-dozen children scampered 
out and a door banged sharply behind 
them. Flint sat down in a wooden 
chair and motioned 'Gene to follow his 
example. Foley stood by the cold air- 
tight stove and waited. 

"How's your garden comin'?" in- 
quired Flint. 

"Fair to middlin'," answered Foley. 

"If ye had the kind of weather they 
have where 'Gene's been now — •" 

"Whar's thet?" inquired Foley. 

"South Americv, " answered Flint. 
"An' he says as how rum's free as water 
down thar. " 

He paused. 

"He's jus' back," continued Flint, 
sinking his voice to a mysterious whis- 
per. "An' he's powerful thirsty. If 
ye hed a quart of suthin' — " 

Foley bristled up. 

"Course I knows ye only has it in 
the house in case of sickness," Flint 
added quickly. "The p'int is, 'Gene 
here has gut used to it, so he gits p'ison- 
sick without it. Might be ye'd save 
his life with just a quart." 

"I keeps a little on hand for the 
kids," Foley admitted. 

"I tell ye," said Flint, "if ye'd jus' 
loan him a quart — say till to- 
morrer. " 

Foley glanced towards the door. 
Then suddenly swooping down upon 
the stove, he lifted the cover and drew 
out a quart bottle. 

" I don't sell none, " he said. 

"Course ye don't," agreed Flint. 
An' I wouldn't ask ye fer it 'cept in 
case of sickness. Maybe now ye'd join 
us in a swaller?" 

Foley produced three glasses. 'Gene 
filled his to the brim. With a lift and 
a nod he raised the glass to his lips and 
drained it to the bottom. The stuff 
swept away the cobwebs in his brain 
instantly. In another minute it had 
banished the tense face; in another 
even the croak of the dying parrot. He 
filled a second glass, while the two men 
stared at him in amazement. 

"Ye surely shows yer trainin'," com- 
mented Flint. 

"I was thirsty — clear to my boot- 
heels," answered 'Gene. "Lord, but 
that's good." 

{To be continued) 

A New Edition of Educational 



THE Peters and Litolff Editions, 
of those standard classics, 
which will always form an 
important part of every serious 
music curriculum, have long been 
depended upon by every music teacher, 
and by every musician. However, 
modern technic has effected so much 
and it has so thoroughly revised 
things since the days of the Herz 
scales, that no one but a pedant of the 
old school would think it possible to 
make for the broader and more artistic 
musicianship without a liberal use 
of the best modern presentations of 
musical pedagogics, by the most com- 
petent and the most authoritative 
modern composers and teachers. 

A series of educational works, which 
are a setting forth of the most practical 
exploitations of the difficulties oc- 
curring in piano, violin, organ, violin- 
cello, and vocal study, — a representa- 
tive edition of the best, the most help- 
ful, the most effectual ideas and 
"aids to progress," which have been 
contrived by the most authoritative 
modern teachers, — such is the long 
list of more than a hundred volumes 
known to the musical worldasSchmidt's 
Educational Series. 

This series is significant because 
every volume, as it appears in this 
edition, is absolutely unique. In the 
first place, no volume in this Educa- 
tional Series occurs in duplicate in any 
other edition. Also, each separate 
volume has a definite raison d'etre, is 
an independent monograph, as it 
were, which treats successfully and 
adequately whatever portion of the 
field it aims to cover. Intelligently 
used, there is not one volume of this 
educational series which will not prove 
remunerative and compensating to the 
student, not one volume which will 

fail to prove patent for the purpose to 

which it devotes itself. 

In every case the volumes of thii 
series have been the fruit of the wide 
experience of some teacher-rnusician, 
whose success with pupils has been 
notable. Looking through the cata- 
logue of the contents of this edition, 
it soon becomes evident that it will 
invariably answer the question, "What 
shall I use:'' for here are listed a 
complete array of the best modern 
instructive ideas, and out of this list 
the requirements of any necessity 
which may arise in amateur musical 
study, can be met in a competent and 
representative way. There is abso- 
lutely no demand of the first four 
grades of pianoforte instruction, 
which cannot be thoroughly met by 
some volume of Schmidt's Educational 
Series. The list also contains spec- 
ially edited classics, — valuable be- 
cause they are edited by musicians 
of great competence and because the 
contents have been made new and 
attractive, and do not merely include 
the old and long-familiar selections. 
For instance, Vol. 64 contains some 
little known compositions by Handel, 
which are adapted and edited bv Mr. 
Carl Faelten. Vol. 97, Books I 
II, III entitled, Systematic Finger 
Technic, are progressive pianoforte 
studies for the earlier grades by Carl 
Czerny, and selected, arranged, and 
augmented with studies after motives 
from Czerny, by H. R. Krentzlin, a 
Berlin teacher who has a considerable 
reputation. (Vol. 59 is a set of six 
characteristic pieces by Mr. Krentzlin, 
excellent for the first and second 
grades, and entitled "Village Scenes.") 
Vol. 78 is a compendium of Heller's 
Pianoforte Studies, revised, edited, 
and arranged in progressive order by 



Mr. Arthur Foote. No one is better 
fitted to present two volumes of 
Heller's Etudes to us in a more logical 
way than is Mr. Foote, who was a 
pupil of Heller's. In this compendium 
eight opus numbers of Heller's Etudes 
have been drawn upon, the choice 
being largely determined by their 
relative technical value. Expression 
marks have been added, and the use 
of the pedals has been more fully indi- 
cated than in the original editions. 
Unnecessary fingering has been taken 
out and an effort has been made to 
obtain a simple and natural one which 
avoids unnecessary movements of the 
hand. This is the best modern edition 
of Heller for practical use. Vol. 24, 
the Fifteen Two-voice Inventions, by 
J. S. Bach, also edited by Mr. Foote, 
is of the same excellent merit and use- 
fulness. However, it is seldom that 
a student can be profitably launched 
straightway into the intricacies of 
Bach, and a little rigorous training 
in the concentration and clear thinking 
necessary to develop the ability to 
keep the thought lines distinct and 
clearly defined, is an excellent founda- 
tion. "Systematic training for Poly- 
phonic Playing," by Heinrich Pfitzner, 
is the most pertinent means for ac- 
complishing such results. This work 
should be used at an early stage, as a 
companion volume to any regular 
pianoforte course as it is the most 
thorough work, and practically the only 
work of such a nature that the pupil 
can naturally gain a grasp upon the 
peculiar technical and mental require- 
ments of contrapuntal music. 

"Progressive Studies in Octave 
Playing," by Charles Dennee (Vol. 37 
of this series), is a collection of octave 
studies, arranged in progressive order 
and selected from the works of Gurlitt, 
Wolff, Foote, Eggeling, Bach, Mozart, 
and others. Excellent preparatory ex- 
ercises and a number of new studies 
have been specially written by the 
editor. There are comparatively few 
helpful octave studies for the inter- 
mediate grades, and this volume is an 
especially meritous one. 

"The Pupil's First Etude Album," 

consisting of fifty-three etudes, each 
designed to be of use for a technical 
difficulty, and of much musical at- 
tractiveness, is one of the most 
valuable collections of etudes for the 
first and second grades. This volume, 
as well as its successor, "The Second 
Etude Album," has been compiled and 
arranged in progressive order by 
Ferdinand Meyer. The list of con- 
tents speak for themselves: "Study 
in Lightness and Grace," by Sartorio; 
" WristjMovement," by Charles Mayer; 
"Staccato Chords," by Stamaty; 
"Study in Style," by L. Schytte, are 
only a few examples of the contents. 

"Ten Melodious Etudes" for the 
Pianoforte, by Ludvig Schytte, have 
been carefully selected from Opus 66, 
and are edited by Philip Hale. This 
volume is invaluable in its adaptability 
and in its ability to produce telling 
results. It is excellent for the demon- 
stration of crisp staccato, of attaining 
a nicety of phrasing and of musical 
expression, and for technical fluency. 

"Norwegian Suite," by Trygve Tor- 
jussen, a new composer of poetic 
style and excellent musicianship should 
not be overlooked. Vol. 63, Tor- 
jussen's "Norwegian Suite," is a set 
of six third grade compositions, which 
are unexcelled for recital purposes. 
These pieces are of singularly poetic 
beauty and appeal, and they have a 
distinctly Norwegian flavor. In one 
sense, they are not at all third grade 
recital pieces; it would be more 
accurate to say that they are short 
atmospheric poems which can be used 
to great advantage for third grade 
pupils, — for the "Legende," "Vision," 
and "In der Nacht," are certainly 
musical poems. Of similar usefulness 
in their suitability for use as third 
grade recital pieces are the "Six 
Aphorisms," by Oskar Wolf, one of 
which is for the left hand alone, and 
is particularly poetic. Both the " Nor- 
wegian Suite," by Torjussen, and the 
"Aphorisms," by Wolf, have so much 
genuine poetry, and so effective is 
their idea that they are sure to 
attract music-lovers as well as teachers 
and students. In connection with 



these last two works, as "pieces," the 
"Twelve Etudes for the Development 
of Technic and Style," by Edward 
Macdowell, can be advantageously 
used, as they are of about equal 
difficulty. Each etude has been made 
to fulfil a purpose. They are to aid in 
the attainment of "Accent," "Grace," 
"Singing Touch," "Delicate Rhythmi- 
cal Playing," etc. Also of much 
interest to music lovers and for studio 
recital work, are the "Impressions 
Musicales, — Five Waltzes," for the 
piano, by Moritz Moskowski. No 
word is necessary concerning the grace 
and brilliancy and musical beauty of 
Moskowski's waltzes, and these are a 
unique and unusual collection. 

Another set of excellent composi- 
tions for third grade, are the Morceaux 
Poetiques, by Theodore Lack — six 
pieces in all. "The Waltz at Twi- 
light" is especially attractive and 
graceful; the "Romance Sans Paroles" 
is full of feeling and beauty. 

"The Pupils Library" is a pro- 
gressive collection of pianoforte pieces, 
— First, Second, and Third Series. 
Each series contains two volumes, with 
about sixteen pieces in each volume. 
The First Series contains thirty-five 
"Easiest Pieces"; the Second Series, 
thirty-two Easy Pieces; the Third 
Series twenty-four pieces in the me- 
dium grades. The composers repre- 
sented are such as Lichner, Sartorio, 
Philipp, Schytte, Dennee, Meyer- 
Helmund, Czibulka, Reinecke, and 
others. The series is sure to prove 
interesting and helpful. 

In the violin section may be found 
valuable additions to the violin reper- 
toire and etudes and technical studies 
which are according to the most 
modern ideas for violin teaching. 
There are four books by Friedrich 
Hermann which contain work in each 
of the positions. "Twelve Melodious 
Etudes," by Th. Hermann, and for the 

first position are excellent technically, 
at the same time being made attractive 
by their melodious quality and by 
their having accompaniment for a 
second violin. 

An entirely new edition of Concone 
will be of interest to vocalists, and this 
one is a most excellent one; also a set 
of "Vocalises for Soprano or Tenor," 
by Wilhelm Sturm, and "Lyric Fan- 
cies," a selection of songs by American 
composers. These songs are arranged 
in two volumes, and for high or low 
voice. The songs are all too well loved 
to need any word here; the;/ are such 
as, "Allah," by Chadwick; "Dear 
Little Hut by the Rice Fields," by 
Gena Branscombe; "0 Lovely Rose," 
by Macdowell; "An Irish Love Son^r," 
by Margaret Ruthven Lane: "My 
Dear," by Marv Salter Turner; 
"Shena Van," by 'Mrs. Beach; "The 
Night has a Thousand Eyes," by 
Arthur Foote, etc. 

This Educational Series has already 
proved itself invaluable to music 
lovers, teachers, and students, and well 
it may as it offers only the best that 
modern musical thought has put 
forth in the way of helpfulness, and it 
sets the text on clear open pages 
with the engraving well dispersed, 
thus making the page easily read. 
Another excellent feature is the fact 
that the series is published at cheap 
prices, and that the professional dis- 
count is the same as on Litolff, Peters, 
and other cheap editions. That we 
should have an American edition, 
which is so thoroughly representative 
of the best musical contrivances that 
modern expert musical thought hai 
to offer as aids for the laying of the 
foundations of musicianship in young 
students, — that is a significant fact, 
and one which means the promotion of 
the realer teaching of music, the teach- 
ing of music that means progress for 
music in America. 

Birds of the Month 

{Continued from page 32) 

hands of the committees to which 
they have been referred for con- 
sideration. The McLean Bill, how- 
ever, has been favorably reported by 
the Senate Committee on Forest 
Reservations, and the Protection of 
Game, and the Weeks Bill has like- 
wise been given the endorsement of 
the House Committee on Agriculture. 

Congress has convened, and al- 
though the session will be very short, 
ending on March 4, there is abundant 
time to advance either of these bills 
to' a vote if the supporters of the 
measures will immediately become 
active and bestir themselves to the 
point of urging their senators and 
congressmen to take up the bills and 
pass them. 

If you have not already done so 
will you at once communicate with 
your senators at Washington, urging 
them to support the "McLean Bill 
for Federal Protection of Migratory 
Birds," and write your congressmen, 

insisting that they give their votes 
to the Weeks Bill. 

To those not familiar with the ex- 
act character of the legislation pro- 
posed, it may be stated that the plan 
is to delegate to the United States 
Department of Agriculture the au- 
thority to make rules and regulations 
regarding the open and closed seasons 
for killing migratory birds, and also 
prescribe the method by which game 
shall be taken and disposed of. The 
Department would also fix the 
status of what is game and what is 

Thus in North Carolina the robin 
and towhee are both classed as game 
birds, while in the northern states 
they are protected under the Audubon 
law as non-game bird. It is difficult 
to over-estimate the good which would 
result in the matter of unifying and 
enforcing laws for the protection of 
wild life if either of these bills shall at 
length become a law. 


^<£jacK/I> OF* CP*jOl-ilA^ F»£i^TG.5a* 

Grandmother's Cook Book 

By the New England Magazine Cooking Club 

I HAVE forgotten who it was who 
contended that a "well filled 
stomach is the best thing to 
start the day with," and at 
any rate doubtless many of you would 
protest in this age of after-theater 
dinners, midnight rarebits, and pro- 
miscuous midnight eating, which 
brings in its morning wake a practi- 
cally breakfast-less beginning of thejday. 
Personally, I have very little faith in 
the brain-power of an empty stomach, 
in spite of the fact that I was brought 
up to realize that "we do not live to 
eat." A "well filled stomach" is a 
somewhat vulgar phrase, and I shall 
amend it by substituting a "properly 
filled stomach," and in all events 
I demand the privilege of making a 
plea for the "respectfully treated stom- 
ach." I would also like to make a 
plea for the old-fashioned breakfast 
which was a much more peaceful, 
more refined, and more healthful 
affair than the present day relay-race 
to\that initial function of the day. 
I firmly believe that if a New Eng- 
land great-great-grandfather were to 
suddenly awake during breakfast time 
in a present day household, his in- 
stinctive surmise after he recovered 

from his bewilderment, would be that 
no one in the family was on speaking 
terms with any one else, and I am 
sure great-great-grandmother would 
be shocked at the ''easiest way," 
makeshift eating that many a well-to- 
do American household of to-day 
affects. Sometimes I think that about 
seven out of ten women may be 
divided, as far as cooking be con- 
cerned, into two classes, — the brainy 
women and the good-for-nothing wo- 
men. The brainy women evade the 
issue and then recite for their apologia, 
a sort of creed which is a sort ofl 
believe" in health foods, simple diets, 
uncooked fruits, etc., and they can 
recite to you how so-and-so gained 
ten pounds in no time by eating 
nothing but milk and eggs, and a kind 
of health cracker that is twin to a 
dog biscuit. The "good-for-nothing" 
woman is usually more deceitful about 
it and simply tries to cover up her 
tracks by offering easy substitutes 
upon her unsuspecting family. There 
had been enough odds and ends of 
vegetables left from the dinner to 
have made an excellent vegetable 
hash, but they went into the garbage 
because my lady "hasn't time to 



bother with it," so she orders chops 
for lunch and then complains of the 
high cost of living, and that she only 
got three for sixty cents, and the 
marvelous businesses which seem to 
make up her very busy day are a 
bridge party and about three hours of 
hanging on the telephone. 

Yes, autos, bridge, telephones and 
matinees have made women extremely 
busy, and they have not one minute 
more to spend on cooking than is 
absolutely necessary to-put together 
what will do for a dinner and so, as 
they remove some bakery stuff from 
its wrappers, they remark that it is 
just as good and that it "doesn't 
pay" to bake any more. "It doesn't 
pay" is only the cloak under which a 
lazy or a disinterested cook hides. 
It is a far cry from the "live to eat" 
gourmand's feast and the well-cooked 
wholesome, enjoyable meal. The mere 
complying with necessity does not 
bespeak refinement in any sense. It 
is the added increment of the un- 
necessary to the point of creating 
wholesome enjoyment that makes for 
happy and refined civilization. To 
use simply enough language to be 
understood might be sufficient, but 
to speak beautiful English is more 
admirable and more uplifting. And 
I believe that there is an impetus for 
sparkling wit, for repartee, for en- 
livened conversation to be gained from 
the family at table. This function 
•of life is about the only intimate 
function which the family as a whole 
indulge in, and let us preserve and 
promote its attractiveness and its 
wholesomeness, and by no means let 
us fail to set upon the table good 
cooking. There is a sort of contagious 
aroma of good fellowship which arises 
out of the midst of a pudding that the 
household mother has taken pride in 

The rules that will appear on these 
pages are offered to those women who 
still believe that cooking is an art, 
and who believe in the rites of the 
family table and in the magic of good 
cookery, and who are interested in 
making wholesome good things. Com- 

mon sense and a whole-souled en- 
thusiasm are the principal ingredients 
of a good cook. The other ingredients 
offered below are, in the main, "New 
England" rules. They have all been 
tried and enjoyed: 

Corn Bread (Nantucket) 

One pint of meal, one pint of milk, 
one-half pint of flour, two eggs, one 
teaspoonful of soda, two teaspoonfuls 
of cream of tartar, two tablespoonfuls 
of sugar, a little salt. 

Sift the cream of tartar into the 
flour and mix it and the meal together. 
Dissolve the soda in a little of the 
milk, add the rest of the milk, the 
well-beaten eggs and the sugar and 
salt. Mix all thoroughly. Bake about 
half an hour in roll pans, or in a pan 
about an inch deep. 

Breakfast Muffins (Nantucket) 

One pint of milk with a little piece 
of butter warmed until the butter 
begins to melt. Pour it gradually into 
three pints of flour, mixing smoothly. 
Add two well-beaten eggs (one will 
do), two tablespoonfuls of yeast and 
three even tablespoonfuls of sugar. 
Mix thoroughly and set it to rise. In 
the morning add a little salt and bake 
in muffin rings. 

Fruit Cake 

Six eggs, two cups sugar, two cups 
butter, one cup molasses, one teaspoon 
soda, one pound currants, one pound 
citron, one pound raisins, five cups 
flour, one cup milk. All well beaten 
together. Just before you add the 
flour, add one teaspoonful each of all 
kinds of spice. This rule will make 
three loaves, and it will keep one year. 

Suet Pudding 

One cup chopped suet, one cup 
chopped raisins, one cup molasses, 
one cup sweet milk, one-half teaspoon 
soda, two and one-half cups flour, 
one-quarter teaspoon cinnamon, one 
quarter teaspoon cloves, a little nut- 
meg. Steam for one hour. Serve 
with hard sauce. 



Chocolate Pudding 

Yolks of two eggs, one-half cup 
sugar, one teaspoon butter, one-half 
cup milk, one cup flour into which 
one teaspoon of baking powder has 
been stirred, one square melted choco- 

Sauce for Same 

One cup powdered sugar and one 
tablespoon melted butter. Cream 
sugar and butter together. Add the 
whites of two eggs beaten to a stifl 
froth. Flavor with vanilla. 

Baked Indian Pudding 

One quart of milk and two-thirds 
of a cup of Indian meal. Take a little 
of the milk and mix the meal with it 
to a smooth paste. Scald the rest 
of the milk. Stir in the meal when 
the milk is hot and let it cook until it 
thickens, stirring all the while. Take 
from the stove and add two eggs, two- 
thirds of a cup of molasses into which 
a teaspoonful of soda has been beaten, 
a little cinnamon, a pinch of ginger. 
and a pinch of salt. Bake three hours. 
Eat with sweetened cream. 

Baked Indian Puddinc; 

Four tablespoonfuls of meal, one-half 
cup of molasses, one quart of milk, and 
a small piece of butter. Mix the meal 
and molasses with a little salt. Then 
pour on one pint of scalded milk. 
Just before putting into the oven pour 
on the remainder of the milk and stir 
the whole. Lay small bits of butter 
over the top and bake slowly, about 
three and a half hours. Serve with 
melted butter or whipped cream. 

Mayonnaise Dressing 

For one pint of dressing use three 
gills of oil, the yolks of two eggs, one 
teaspoon of mustard, one-half tea- 

poon of salt, two tcaspoonfu! 
lemon juice, two :jfuk of i 

gar, one-tenth teaspoon of 
and four tablespoonfuls of thi 
cream. Put the dry ingredients and 
the yolks of the c h " h '~ in the bowl, and 
beat them with an eggbeater until the 
mixture is light and thick. 
begin to add the oil. a few drops at a 
time. Each time the oil is added 
beat until it is thoroughly blended 
with the other ingredients. Add the 
vinegar, one-half spoonful at a time, 
then add the lemon juice, a few dl 
at a time. \\ hen the drc 
light and smooth, whip the cream 
stir it into the dressing. More thick 
whipped cream and proportional 
less oil may be used if desired. 

French Dressing 

Four tablespoonfuls of olive 
two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 

half teaspoonful of sal*. I urth 

teaspoonful of paprika, onion juice — 
just a trifle. Put in a bottle and shake 
until an emulsion is forme 
amount of vinegar can stand more 
olive oil if desired. All of the in- 
gredients should be c 

Ginger Poind Cake (Nantuck 

One pound of flour, one-half pound 
of butter, one pound of sugar, one 
teaspoonful of ginger, or grate in 
nutmeg instead of ginger, six 
Stir the butter and sugar to a fine 
foamy cream; beat the yolks and 
whites of the eggs separately, and 
until very light. Add first the y 
and then the whites to the butter and 
sugar; beat well and then sift in the 
flour and ginger, and mix thoroughly. 
Bake very thin in square cornered 
pans; sift over fine sugar as soon as 
taken from the oven, and cut into 
squares for the table. 

New England Magazine 

Vol. XLIX APRIL, 1913 Number II 

^Beautiful £A££W England 

The Rangeley Lake Region 

N^OT a play wilderness constructed 
by the landscape gardener, 
but nature's own work, deep, 
mysterious, aromatic — ap- 
pealing to every sense — to the sight, 
with crystal waters and spire-like pines, 
covering strange, half penetrable shadows; 
to the hearing with those sounds which 
only the trained woodsman can interpret; 
to the smell with odors replete with asso- 
ciations, and to the touch with the cool 
cleanliness of the forest and breezes that 
are only the undertones of the great, free 
winds that never sleep, but are forever 
rocking the tops of the loftiest trees and 
driving the scudding clouds across the 
mountain peaks! 

Who has not seen Rangeley is dis- 
qualified from reporting on New England 
scenic beauty. 

Situated full within the great northern 
pine-belt, it is still far enough to the 
South to feel the touch of the sun. Range- 
ley can yield tender blossoms, delicate 
ferns, exquisite minor growths of an in- 
finite variety as well as the great boles 
of her magnificient forests. Song-birds 
as well as the great fur-bearers frequent 
her covers. May the wisdom of our 
better civilization preserve her native 
charm for the enjoyment of unborn 




J) Ji 







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'.■■'■:■■ :■■■■■ •■". 

(ktf ! i 

I 1 ■;•:'" m ••• r J '"/ '< 

± r t_ 

: | /M l !i i t J' : : ;: 

Bunk b« 5>. E« M' 1*4 k» M awe r- ■• 

>• i » » « » . . 

'S3i| ; - - • »■— * — p-» ' • ' H 

^ Bus ; - * - . . . 

Burnt fc* oU »» Eof^Md! Art M cU#<a|*^ pt Ik Ml 



?$^^£d^ i i n 

I Tbey te„ a* at tot timin g c-a*. 
Our hard wd mggwJ nl 
Which b»rdi> hail r»n»y» o> tor 
Our *[.rj£ uroe art and Umi ; 
Vfl gki lj »..r.c» \.b* merry boy 

A» va» b.- Ti«»tr»d Urm be uH> . 
Hurrah for old \»» England I 

And her clmd-capped fraai'e biDk. 
Choxc*. Hurnb, etc 

« Other* may ml the »e«*rn ._jt» : 
1 Tbey My 1 ;« kkaWJMg 'fc -. 

Th»l sunny are iU. lauffiing stiea 

And soft i> -» t.> air. 
We "II linger round our childhood', bona. 

Til age our Mm blakd r£ .*, 
Til «-e die in old Sew England, 
And sleep beneai-h her hill* ! 
Csomr« Hurrah, eto. 

Copyright MDCCLY by Oliver Ditsox 




Synopsis of Previous Installment 

The author of "Betraying New England" is Mr. John F. Moors 0/ Boston. 
Mr. Moors is a banker and one of the original members of the Boston Finance Com- 
mission, a permanent body created by State legislation to keep watch upon the 
finances of the municipality. The justification for the strong title given to the article 
lies in the circumstance that the very existence of a people depends upon adequate 
transportation facilities. 

Mr. Moors was prompted to make the study by reading an article in the New 
York "Evening Post" last November entitled "Fighting Mellen" It impressed him 
as so palpably unjust that he began to question the motives underlying this and 
other articles which were cropping out in the press with striking agreement. 

Mr. Moors found that the trouble originated with the appearance of Mr. Louis 
D. Brandeis as counsel for William B. Lawrence and other members of the Lawrence 
family of Medford in an effort to block the control of the Boston i$ Maine , then just 
secured by the New York, New Haven 1$ Hartford Railroad — the Lawrences being 




large stockholders in the Boston 15 Maine. In December IQ07, Mr. Brandeis issued 
an elaborate pamphlet devoted to a discussion of the " Financial Condition of the New 
York, New Haven If Hartford Railroad Company and of the Boston \$ Maine Rail- 
road." He assumed the sole authorship and responsibility for this pamphlet. Its 
main proposition was that the New Haven had become a very weak company, while the 
Boston y Maine had been becoming a strong company. 

Dissecting this work in detail, Mr. Moors found numerous serious errors in the 
way of misrepresentation, misstatement and incorrect figures. He pointed out dis- 
crepancies amounting in one instance to as much as either $i 18,000,000, or 
$123,000,000, or $107,000,000, according to basis for estimate. Other discrepancies 
amount to exaggerations respectively of $24,707,000; of about $68,000,000 
(converting an asset of about $13,000,000 into a liability of about $55,000,000), 
and of $3,000,000. 

Among the errors of statement charged by Mr. Moors is one where Mr. Brandies 
says of the New Haven: "Its stock is not tax exempt." " This." says Mr. Moors, 
"is the exact reverse of the truth." Summarizing the Sew Haven* J condition, Mr. 
Brandeis stated: u If solvency is to be maintained, a large reduction in the dividend 
rate is inevitable." Comment by Mr. Moors: " Yet for five years since then the eight 
per cent dividend rate has been maintained." In conclusion Mr. Brandeis says: 
" The New Haven's credit is strained to the utmost." Mr. Moors remarks here: 
" Yet since then the company has met every obligation, has supported the Bosv 
Maine, and has paid about $60,000,000 in dividends. 

Mr. Moors pronounces the Brandeis analysis of the Boston y Maine as unsound 
as that of the New Haven, for which not a single word of priase was given, while for 
the Boston if Maine every word is a word of praise." While Mr. Brandeis said 
the Boston if Maine was growing steadily in financial strength, Mr. Moors re- 
marks: " Yet it is the almost universal opinion of the financial world thai but for the 
supporting arms of the New Haven, the Boston If Maine would before this have 
been in the hands of a receiver." 

(The Second Attack 

TO understand the recently re- 
newed attacks on the New 
Haven system by Mr. Brandeis 
and others, it is necessary to 
have in mind his point of view as ex- 
pressed in 1907. At that time, under 
Mr. Mellen, the New Haven had been, 
according to Mr. Brandeis, becoming so 
weak that its credit had been strained 
"to the uttermost," while the Boston & 

Maine had been "growing steadily in 
strength." To be sure, extraordinary 
figures had been used to support this 

There had been an error of at least 
$107,000,000 in the effort to show an 
undue increase of properties other than 
steam railroads. In the case of the 
New York, Ontario & Western, an 
investment of $13,105,000 had beer. 



represented as a liability of about 
$55,000,000. An increase in capital 
stock from $91,878,100 to $97,080,400 
had been made to appear as an in- 
crease to $121,878,100. The New 
Haven net earnings in one year had 
been given as $3,000,000 less than those 
reported by the company. 

All these extraordinary figures had 
been published to make the public look 
upon the New Haven road as start- 
lingly degenerate. Every error in 
statement was adverse to the New Haven. 
As to the Boston & Maine, Mr. Bran- 
deis stated that there was no reason 
to doubt that the company's net in- 
come would be ample to continue 
dividends at the rate of seven per cent. 
However the figures and the conclu- 
sions were arrived at, the central 
theme could not have been more em- 
phatically dwelt upon. 

The present attack was preceded 
by an article in McClure's last Septem- 
ber, but began in earnest last Novem- 
ber, the first excitement over the 
Grand Trunk's cessation of building 
operations in New England being 
used relentlessly. The attack took 
violent form in the usually sedate and 
restrained New York Evening Post. 
On November 23, and again on 
November 27, that newspaper had 
extra large head-lines on its first page, 
"Fighting Mellen" on the earlier date, 
" Mellen's Doings " on the later. These 
two articles should be studied in their 
entirety if the present attack is to be 
understood. Mr. Brandeis appears 
in both. 

Both articles show that the excite- 
ment, growing out of the Grand Trunk 
episode, and accentuated by the hear- 
ings before Interstate Commerce Com- 
missioner Prouty, with regard to the 
railroad service in New England, and 
by a lamentable succession of wrecks, 
was being used deliberately to foster 
the original purpose of Messrs. Bran- 
deis and Lawrence in 1907, viz.: the 
separation of the Boston & Maine 
from the New Haven. 

For this deliberate purpose every 
incident was highly colored. The 
railroad situation in New England 

was called "a disease spot"; the freight 
service was called either " demoralized " 
or a "breakdown"; Mr. Mellen was 
persistently said to have "staved off" 
the extension of the Grand Trunk into 
New England, in spite of his protesta- 
tions and those of the president of the 
Grand Trunk that this was not true; 
the utmost blame was heaped on the 
New Haven for the wrecks, without 
waiting for the official reports which 
exonerated the company for two of the 

Most people have doubtless assumed 
that the outburst of feeling against 
the New Haven and its president in 
the closing weeks of 1912 was spon- 
taneous. The articles in the Evening 
Post of November 23 and November 27 
disclose the machinery by which the 
excitement was fomented. Last No- 
vember, be it remembered, the Massa- 
chusetts Legislature was not in ses- 
sion, and, except for Mr. Brandeis and 
his associates, there was no organized 
movement looking to the disruption of 
the New Haven system. 

In the article of November 23 this 
announcement is made: "Now the 
fight is on again along different lines 
of attack. The plan is for the state 
to take the stock of the holding com- 
pany, taking the Boston & Maine 
away from Mellen and going a long 
way towards ending his monopoly. 
That is the main fight now." 

The article of November 27 has the 
following explicit statement: "Massa- 
chusetts is now going through a cam- 
paign preliminary to the taking over 
by the state of the shares of the Boston 
Holding Company, by which Mellen 
owns the Boston & Maine. Later on 
a similar fight is to be begun in Con- 

So there was then a definite "plan" 
in the hullabaloo, and there was a 
"fight on" and there were organized 
"lines of attack," and the "main 
fight" was to get the Boston & Maine 
away from the New Haven. 

In Massachusetts the movement was 
so deliberate that it was called "a cam- 
paign," and it was preliminary to the 
final success of Mr. Brandeis's original 



proposition, and later a similar fight 
was "to be begun" in Connecticut. 
Could words more clearly express the 
deliberate manufacture of public turmoil 
than that it was "to be begun"? 

The earlier article is nine columns 
long (two columns on the first page 
and all of page 3 except an inch in the 
last corner). Under "Fighting Mel- 
len" comes "New England in Another 
War of Liberty." The whole article 
is pitched on this key. "The brunt of 
the struggle," it says, "is in the neigh- 
borhood of Bunker Hill." "This time 
the fight is for commercial indepen- 
dence and against Charles S. Mellen." 
"They talk of Mellen's wooden pas- 
senger cars, of Mellen's late trains, of 
Mellen's wrecks, of Mellen's demoral- 
ized freight service." "Mellen's 500 
Peacocks" is the first sub-heading, 
"Killing of Passengers," the next. 

"These wrecks and the Grand 
Trunk matter," said Louis D. Bran- 
deis, leader of New England's fight, 
to an Evening Post correspondent, 
"are both logical parts of the situation 
we have been leading up to for the last 
six years. The staving off of the 
Grand Trunk is, of course, only another 
step in the Mellen plan to destroy 
competition regardless of the interests 
of the public and his own stockholders, 
a policy so costly that the New Haven 
road has not been able, for several 
years, to declare from earnings the 
eight per cent dividends it has been 

This paragraph repays examining. 
The words "for the last six years" 
recall the fact that very nearly six 
years ago Mr. Brandeis and Mr. Law- 
rence dwelt as severely as now on the 
decrepit condition of the New Haven 
finances. Note how he insists, with- 
out qualifications, that the dividends 
paid have not been earned, though Mr. 
Mellen has stated and reiterated that 
they have been earned, except in the 
year succeeding the panic. Note how, 
without qualification, he speaks of 
Mellen's "staving off" the Grand 
Trunk. At the time when Mr. Bran- 
deis said this, no evidence had been 
published that Mr. Mellen had stopped 

the Grand Trunk from building. Since 
then Mr. Mellen has denied this as 
absolutely and emphatically as he 
could. Even the wrecks in Connecti- 
cut are linked up with the Grand 
Trunk "staving off." Three high 
officials have been arrested for man- 
slaughter, as a result of these wrecks, 
and await trial. They are entitled to 
be judged on facts, and not on accusa- 

Asked by the Evening Post corres- 
pondent whether Mr. Mellen was the 
Harriman of New England, Mr. Bran- 
deis replied: "No, I think that is too 
much of a compliment to Mr. Mellen, 
something of a reflection on the memory 
of a man who is dead. Mr. 1! 
man was constructive, always. He 
improved his properties." 

The implication could not be 
stronger that Mr. Mellen had not 
improved the New Haven. The con- 
struction of a four-track road through 
the city of New Haven, the heavy 
bridges, including the made-over 
Poughkeepsie bridge, the block signals, 
the new stations, the electrification 
of the road between New York and 
New Haven, which is expected to be 
finished within six months, the electri- 
fication and four tracking, between 
Boston and Providence, already in 
hand, thus providing for the electri- 
fication of more than half the road 
between Boston and New York, the 
tunnel under Providence already com- 
pleted, the tunnel under Fall River 
in prosecution, the double tracking 
and entire rebuilding of the Naugatuck 
branch, at a cost exceeding that of the 
original road, the great development 
of freight and passenger facilities in 
and about New York, are evidence 
of how Mr. Mellen has improved his 
properties. The New York Connect- 
ing Railway, the New York, West- 
chester, and Boston, a new road 
constructed like the best of steam 
railroads and electrified, the six-track 
Harlem River & Port Chester rail- 
road and its electrification, are part 
of the great plans which Mr. Mellen 
has conceived and carried through in 
anticipation of the growing demandt 



of transportation. Just leave the 
South Station and travel over the Old 
Colony road to and across the Neponset 
River, and then, if you remember the 
old two tracks, the grade crossings, and 
the wooden bridge over which the 
trains had to crawl, you will get a 
small glimpse of what has been accom- 
plished. Since he took charge of the 
Boston & Maine, he has incurred an 
expense of about $30,000,000 on that 
property, including the building of 
great shops at Billerica, to cost 
$2, 500,000, for the repair of engines 
and cars; is spending $700,000 on new 
yards at Mechanicsville to overcome 
congestion at that point of interchange 
with the Delaware and Hudson; and at 
.Newport, Vt., he is spending $300,000 
more. Engine houses are being re- 
built, water supplies and coaling plants 
improved, bridges rebuilt. He has 
asked the right to build and electrify 
immediately a four-track road from 
Boston to Beverly. "A reflection on 
the memory of a man who is dead! 
Mr. Harriman was constructive, al- 
ways! He improved his proper- 

The article speaks of "the 'accident 
zone,' where all the ministers are 
preaching against the management of 
their only railroad," and of "poor old 
buncoed Rhode Island." It says that 
Boston and Providence are not "de- 
luded by the statements of President 
Chamberlin of the Grand Trunk, that 
he has stopped work on the Southern 
New England extension because of 
lack of money. . . . Against the lack 
of money excuse is set off the fact that 
Chamberlin has 6,000 men at work 
right now extending his lines on the 
Pacific Coast." 

Nevertheless, the proposed exten- 
sions to Boston and Providence will 
cost so many millions that there is 
clearly more chance of profit from the 
work on the Pacific Coast than from 
the suspended work in New England. 
Moreover, the present Canadian gov- 
ernment is so much less favorably dis- 
posed than its predecessor to subsi- 
dizing work beneficial primarily to New 
England that it has refused to help 

such work. "Not deluded" assumes, 
without evidence, the whole case. 

The article states cynically that the 
reason why the Harvard and Yale 
were sold was "because they set such 
a standard for speed and efficiency 
that Mellen's Sound boats, in spite 
of their size and ornamentation and 
orchestras, seemed like toy craft by 
comparison." Yet Mr. Mellen has 
put on the same route as that on which 
the Harvard and Yale formerly plied,, 
boats fully as fast and efficient as they. 

"Record of a Broken Promise" is a 
heading, and the charge, often re- 
peated elsewhere, is made that Mr. 
Mellen promised not to acquire or build 
any more trolley lines in Massachu- 
setts "until such times as the merger 
question has been settled," and broke 
the promise. Interesting light is thrown 
on this charge later in this analysis. 

The article gives over two columns 
to Mr. Joseph B. Eastman, "an 
associate of Mr. Brandeis, and an 
officer of the Public Franchise League 
of Boston." There is indeed authority 
for stating that Mr. Eastman supplies 
Mr. Brandeis with many of his figures. 

Mr. Eastman is quoted as saying, 
"We find the New Haven failing in 
four of the last five years to earn the 
dividends of eight per cent, which it 
has paid, and its stock falling to the 
singularly low figure of 126. It sold 
as high as 255 only a few years ago." 

Not a word is said by Mr. East- 
man as to the effect on the minds 
of stockholders of reiterations of these 
themes of five years earlier: "The 
New Haven's credit is strained 
to the uttermost"; and "If solvency 
is to be maintained, a large reduction in 
the dividend rate is inevitable." No- 
allowance is made for various issues 
of valuable rights by the New Haven. 
The demands of labor in the single 
year ending June 30, 1910, had caused 
an increase in expenses of $1,757,506, 
only one-half of which the company 
could get back by higher rates, be- 
sides an increase of over $2,000,000 in 
the labor costs of the Boston & Maine 
materially affecting the dividends of 
the latter. Nor is any allowance 



made for the great fall in the market 
price of most railroad stocks during 
this period, partly at least because of 
government restrictions. If, for ex- 
ample, that most successful and ex- 
cellently managed railroad, Mr. James 
J. Hill's famous Great Northern, were 
treated similarly without any allow- 
ances, it could be shown that the mar- 
ket price of the stock had fallen much 
more severely than that of the New 
Haven (i.e., from $348 a share in 1906, 
to $107.50 a share in 1907). 

Mr. Eastman says later in the ar- 
ticle: — 

"The $24,000,000 of capital so 
cheerfully wasted on the Rhode Island 
trolleys would have gone far to equip 
the whole road, branches and all, with 
steel cars. The $9,000,000 squan- 
dered on 'control of the situation' in 
the case of the New York, West- 
chester, and Boston would have built 
a tunnel under Boston. The countless 
•other millions well-nigh tossed away 
in the mad pursuit of a monopoly 
might have been spent on the complete 
electrification of the road from New 
York to Boston." 

The truth is that, however "cheer- 
fully" a large sum may have been 
"wasted" on the Rhode Island trolleys, 
the whole sum of $24,000,000 was not 
thus wasted. Net earnings of nearly 
$400,000 a year (last year they 
amounted to $387,598.88) are worth 
something apart from the incidental 
advantages. Steel cars in great num- 
bers have been secured, and it remains 
to be seen how much better they will 
prove than wooden cars. The tunnel 
under Boston was the original propo- 
sition of Mr. Mellen. It has been 
urged by him unsuccessfully whenever 
there has seemed a chance of getting it, 
and was, as already shown, derisively 
opposed at the very outset by Mr. 
Brandeis' principal, Mr. William B. 
Lawrence. The $9,000,000 "squan- 
dered" in securing a franchise to build 
the New York, Westchester and Bos- 
ton has enabled the New Haven to 
provide a great public improvement, 
:and to give new high-grade transporta- 
tion to an important region near New 

York. The real charge of Mr. 1 
man seems in this case to be that the 
New Haven has been a public bene- 
factor to its own cost. Lastly, it is 
grossly unjust to charge the New 
Haven Company with backwardness 
in electrification, as it is the leader 
in the whole world in this work and has 
spent vast sums in experiments instead 
of waiting for others to try them first. 

The last three columns and more 
in the Evening Post article are given 
up to complaints of shippers. The 
article says, "Perhaps the most im- 
pressive evidence in the matter of New 
England's poor freight service is in the 
complaints of the shippers themselves." 
In bulk, the array of complaints se- 
lected for publication is certainly im- 
pressive, and few reader? probably 
have analyzed them closely. When 
so analyzed, their true si^rnir.cance is 
found to be quite different from the 
effect intended. 

Only the first complaint and one 
other refer exclusively to the V I 

The other complaints are n. 
poor service on the Boston & Maine, 
or with points entirely outside New 
England. One complaint says, "1 
wretched service between Milwaukee 
and Boston," but without the slightest 
intimation that either the New Haven 
or the Boston Si Maine was in any way 
responsible. Another complaint has 
the justice to say, "Of course, the 
Boston & Maine cannot be held ac- 
countable for delays north of its terri- 
tory." Another complaint admitted 
that the Boston 6c Maine maintained 
that a tardy car had been delivered to 
the Delaware &: Hudson. Most of the 
delays were in shipments to or from 
places off the main lines, — Ipswich, 
Reading, Marblehead, Dixfield, Maine, 
etc. It should also be noted that com- 
plaints were asked for by the Boston 
Chamber of Commerce, and that it 
was therefore natural for them to 
come. One complaint closes thus: 
"Isn't this the kind of case you want 
to know about?" 

One of the purely New Haven com- 
plaints was as follows, and was ad- 



dressed, under date of October 18, 
to the Boston Chamber of Commerce: 
"We beg to acknowledge receipt of 
your favor of the 17th in regard to 
non-delivery of goods from New York, 
October 1. We are pleased to say 
that your attention to the matter 
seemed to produce results, as we have 
been able to secure the goods." 
"Here," says the article in the Evening 
Post, commenting on this case, "is 
a significant admission from the New 
Haven Road: . . . 'The matter has 
been investigated and I find that ship- 
ment was forwarded from Pier 18, 
October 2, on the steamship Common- 
wealth, but in some unaccountable 
manner the same was not billed until 
October 15. To make matters worse, 
the shipment, consisting of two bales, 
was received at Boston, October 3, and 
checked over, but through oversight, 
the clerk handling the matter did not 
report the shipment as being over. 
The matter has been satisfactorily ex- 
plained to Mr. A. Stanford Wright, 
vice-president of the William W. Bevan 
Company, and it is hoped to avoid a 
recurrence. ' " 

Now of what is this "admission" 
"significant," except of extreme solici- 
tude to make amends for two errors 
of a kind which all business concerns 
are liable to make? How many of us 
who are in active business could escape 
with no complaints if a chamber of 
commerce should send to all our cus- 
tomers and ask if they had any com- 
plaints to make? How should we then 
fare if such complaints as were made 
were published in a newspaper, with- 
out a chance being given to us for de- 
nial or explanation? Would our gen- 
eral manner of doing business be thus 
fairly presented? Should we in par- 
ticular think that it was just, at a time 
when a case against us of great interest 
to the public is being tried before a 
commissioner, for public opinion to be 
day after day thus stampeded against 

There remains in the Evening Post 
article a complaint which has inter- 
ested Mr. Brandeis so much that he 
gives it again in the Boston Sunday 

Post of December 1, 1912, with this 
appeal to a sense of the preposterous 
on the part of the general public, 
much excited and not versed in the 
freight business: "Think of it! Ten 
days from Fitchburg to Worcester, 
26 miles, an average of 2.6 miles a 
day! Is it surprising that a railroad 
should not earn its dividends when 
conducted in such a manner?" 

The case is as follows: "I have 
evidence showing that some traffic out 
of Fitchburg for Worcester, practically 
full carloads, was held in the Worcester 
yards, four and five days respectively 
before it was sent forward, and then 
two days were consumed in getting 
same to Worcester, and then four 
days before the cars were placed in the 
freight house so that the freight could 
be gotten out. This is only a sample 
of what a number of concerns are up 
against. Yours truly, (signed) A. C. 

On analysis one wonders what the 
word "practically," in the phrase 
"practically full carloads," means, — 
whether perchance it means some- 
thing which may have accounted for 
the delay of four or five days before 
the shipments were sent forward. 
Next one wonders whether or not there 
was some good excuse for not getting 
more promptly into the Worcester 
freight house. Next one notes that 
the traffic covered the twenty-six miles, 
not, as Mr. Brandeis says, in ten days, 
but in two days. Lastly, one asks 
one's self whether the general public, 
acting as a jury with only one side of 
the case presented to it, is sufficiently 
informed for sound judgment. 

Most of the time for years there 
has been a great surplus of idle freight 
cars in this country, but at the time of 
Mr. Lorion's complaint there was an 
extraordinary deficit. At the begin- 
ning of 1912 (i.e., January 3) there was 
a net surplus of 135,938 cars. On 
November 7, just a week before the 
date of Mr. Lorion's letter, there was 
a net shortage of 51,169 cars, and on 
November 21, a week afterwards, of 
51,113 cars, these net shortages being 
the greatest of the year, and for several 



years the only shortages. In other 
words, congestion was then at its 
worst and delays most liable to occur. 
At the end of the year (i.e., December 
31, 1912) there was again a surplus 
(17,058 cars). 

By a coincidence, the last serious 
freight congestion, preceding the 1912 
congestion, was just six years ago; that 
i6, it was as nearly as possible simul- 
taneous with the beginning of the pe- 
riod referred to by Mr. Brandeis in 
the Evening Post, when he spoke of 
"the situation we have been leading 
up to for the last six years." At that 
time, conditions on the Boston & 
Albany were incomparably worse than 
those now on either the Boston & 
Maine or the New Haven. It was in 
those days not a question with the 
Boston & Albany of delayed freight or 
of passenger trains late in arriving. 
The passenger trains could not even 
start on any schedule, and patrons 
went to the station to take trains 
whenever the trains should happen to 
go. There was, consequently, an outcry 
that the lease to the New York Central 
should be broken, with more reason, 
though less organized, than the present 
outcry against the New Haven-Boston 
& Maine relationship. More pru- 
dent counsels, however, prevailed. 
The New York Central did its best to 
improve conditions, and during the 
present agitation there has been prac- 
tically not a word said publicly against 
the Boston & Albany. 

On the New Haven itself the con- 
ditions prevailing before the acquisi- 
tion of Boston & Maine are significant. 
The Boston Herald of April 7, 1907, has 
this to say of a meeting of the Boston 
Merchants' Association held the day 

"The meeting was called to consider 
especially the congestion of freight 
traffic at South Boston during the past 
winter, when instances were quoted of 
a period of forty-five days elapsing 
between the time of a shipment in 
Philadelphia and its reception by the 
consignee in Boston; also of shipments 
from New York City and Bridgeport, 
which were over thirty days in transit." 

In the complaints presented in the 
u Evening Post" and purporting to 
tray conditions to-day, there is nothing 
that approaches the situation six years 
ago on the main line of the New Haven. 

An interesting witness to conditions 
as they then existed was Mr. Eugene 
N. Foss, now Governor of this Com- 
monwealth. Said he at a speech in 
Plymouth, June 14, 1907: "In the case 
of my own manufacturing establish- 
ments at Hyde Park it has been found 
that a consignment of goods could be 
delivered from our works to Pitts- 
burgh, even to Chicago, in less time 
than to a point twenty-five or fifty 
miles north of Boston." 

Railroads at best are allowed hardly 
enough margin of earning power to 
enable them to be prepared at all times 
for the spurts of business. During the 
recent congestion conditions at De- 
troit, for example, were incomparably 
worse then here, though there com- 
petition was so superabundant that 
three roads serving the city were in the 
hands of receivers. 

The New Haven management, real- 
izing the Boston & Maine's lack of 
sidings and freight sheds, thus appealed 
for patience in the last report (that for 
June 30, 1912): "The rehabilitation 
of the Boston & Maine railroad will 
require at least two more years' time 
before the property can satisfactorily 
handle the business of the section of 
the country it serves. Until then the 
patience of the public and the officials 
in charge will be severely taxed. It is 
not so much a question of money as 
of the necessary time in which the 
plans can be legally perfected and the 
money properly and economically ex- 

No heed has been given by Mr. 
Brandeis and his associates to this 
appeal. On the contrary, "the offi- 
cials in charge" have had to make up 
endless figures and attend endless 
hearings, while the congestion of busi- 
ness was becoming greater and greater, 
and the publicity of the attacks made 
railroad employees with good nerves 
lose them. 

No mercy has been shown as to the 



wrecks. In addition to the two cross- 
over wrecks, caused by engineers dis- 
regarding signals, there were two others 
which made an accumulating sensation. 
As for one, the derailment of the Mer- 
chants' Express at Greens Farms, 
Conn., November 6, both the Connec- 
ticut Public Service Commission and 
the inspector of the Interstate Com- 
merce Commission have reported that 
the derailment was due to the breaking 
of an equalizer bar, which proper in- 
spection could not have detected. As 
to the other, that at Crescent Avenue, 
Dorchester, on August 8, the Massa- 
chusetts Railroad Commission has re- 
ported as follows: "The board found 
the track to be constructed with rails 
weighing one hundred pounds per 
yard, sound ties, and solid road-bed, 
and that the condition of the road-bed 
and track in no way contributed to the 
accident. The inspectors examined the 
equipment of the train, and found no 
defects, which in their opinion could 
have caused the accident." 

Meanwhile a severe accident on the 
celebrated Pennsylvania road, due to 
the collapse of a bridge, and one on the 
Boston & Albany, due to a bad switch, 
have been ignored by the agitators. 

Mr. Brandeis did not wait for these 
official opinions about the wrecks before 
making his sweeping assertion that 
"these wrecks and the Grand Trunk 
matter are both logical parts of the situa- 
tion we have been leading up to for the 
last six years. 1 ' 

The Evening Post article of Novem- 
ber 27 is even more vicious than that 
of November 23. Again the head-line 
is exceptionally large. "Mellen's Do- 
ings" are thus made to look sensa- 
tional. He is called "ruler of all the 
ships that go down east from New 
York, and grand duke of all the New 
England trolleys." Again, too, Mr. 
Brandeis is quoted with approbation. 

"Of course," says the article, "out- 
side of New Hampshire nobody uses 
such an uncomfortable word as * graft.' 
But the stockholders want to know, 
and before long the public will ask, 
officially, through the Interstate Com- 
merce Commission and the utilities 

or railroad commissions of the several 
New England States, if the New Haven 
and Boston & Maine roads are getting 
the best terms available by buying all 
their coal from Mellen's son." Later 
in the article, under the title "A Signif- 
icant Statement," the closing argu- 
ments of two lawyers for the State of 
New Hampshire against the railroad 
before the Public Service Commission 
of the State are quoted thus: "Sub- 
stantially the entire coal supply is 
purchased of two concerns, in one of 
which the son of a very prominent 
railroad official is a partner." So the 
very authority quoted did not say 
that all the coal was bought of Mr. 
Mellen's son, but of two concerns, in 
one of which he was a partner. When 
the commission finally reported, even 
this charge was found not true. The 
commission added, "It appeared from 
the best outside information obtain- 
able from those experienced in coal 
business that both the terms and prices 
were advantageous and favorable to 
the company." 

The article says that the stock- 
holders "want to know, also, if H. A. 
Fabian, recently assistant to Mellen, 
but now purchaser of supplies, is the 
shrewdest buyer the road could have 
from the stockholder's standpoint." 
The stockholders, as a body, had never 
heard of Mr. Fabian. No tangible 
accusation is made to which he might 
reply. He is simply damaged without 
evidence. Two attorneys for New 
Hampshire, quoted in the article, 
speaking under the title "A Significant 
Statement," of the claims made for 
high-priced wheels said to have been 
bought of a "high railroad official," 
are reported to have stated: "The 
railroad purchasing agent had recently 
begun investigations, to determine 
whether their claims were true, but 
had not yet arrived at a decision. No 
such investigations had been made 
during the many years of using the 
high-priced wheels." Again : " We also 
learn that until recently the railroad 
purchased its freight axles of another 
concern owned by a man prominent in 
political life. Mr. Mellen's purchasing 



agent hae quite recently discontinued 
this practice because he found he could 
purchase another style of axle to better 
advantage." As these are the only 
glimpses of Mr. Fabian, the stock- 
holders, hearing of him for the first 
time, ought, it would seem, to give 
him a vote of thanks for his efforts to 
improve conditions. 

The article of November 27 speaks of 
" handicapped and monopoly-ridden 
New England," of "Chamberlin, who 
has surrendered to Mellen," of the 
possibility that the Grand Trunk's 
proposed extension in New England 
was "a bluff," but this is turned against 
Mr. Mellen with the comment that it 
"does shock faith in human nature 
and reflect on the memory of Hays, 
who has been almost canonized, since 
his death, by the haters of Mellen, 
which is another way of saying by 
New England"; of a train of fifty-four 
freight cars having to wait on a main 
track meant for trains going in the 
opposite direction because no siding 
was long enough for it, but no harm 
resulted; of a single limited train (the 
five o'clock from New York) being 
late, as if this were sensational! The 
article makes the lateness worse for 
the railroad company by saying that 
the train was due "at Boston at 8.59." 
Every one knows that it is not due at 
Boston till 10. The article closes with 
the charge that the average cost of re- 
pairing New Haven freight cars is 
now #21, whereas a normal figure had 
been #9, the reason being that old cars 
were being forced into service on ac- 
count of the extraordinary pressure of 
business. The closing words of the 
article describe this rational pro- 
ceeding thus: "Now there is a rush on 
and a demand for cars, and ail the 
shippers are kicking about bad freight 
service, so Mellen is having all that 
old broken-up junk rushed in for re- 
pairs, and the cost has jumped to $21 
per repair." 

The article is ready to speak of 
Mr. Brandeis and Mr. Hays, but al- 
ways calls Mr. Mellen "Mellen," an 
indication of subconscious animus. 

Because of the reputation for con- 

servatism enjoyed by the Evening Post, 
these articles developed greatly the 
mania for doing something to punish 
the New Haven road and its officials. 
The Evening Post itself continued to 
have on its first page sensational 
"writeups" of the New Haven. 
Typical articles of this sort are one in 
the issue of December 7, entitled " New 
Haven Freight Delay," in which the 
excellent passenger service on the day 
of the Harvard-Yale foot-ball game at 
New Haven was admitted only to say 
that it was a greater surprise than the 
size of the Harvard victory, and to 
give a chance to scoff at the freight 
service; another in the issue of Decem- 
ber 9, entitled "Mellen's Limited 
Trains," in which the time of arrival 
at New York of the limited trains 
from Boston was ridiculed: yet no ac- 
count was taken of the fact that the 
new regulations of the Connecticut 
Public Utilities Commission made 
absolute promptness practically im- 
possible, or of the excellence for years 
in the arrivals of these trains under 
normal conditions. In the issue of 
December 12, on the first page, was a 
particularly vicious article of this 
nature, entitled "Broken Mellen 
Promises." The charge is reiterated 
that "immediately" after promising 
"not to buy any more traction prop- 
erty" he "bought several more trolley 
companies and another block of Boston 
& Maine Stock." The answer to this 
charge is still reserved till later in this 
analysis. The other charges on this 
page are not against Mr. Mellen at all, 
notwithstanding the head-lines, but 
mostly against Vice-President Timothy 
E. Byrnes, who is described in the 
article familiarly as "Timothy." This 
may indicate the tone in which it is 
written. Two of the principal charges 
against Mr. Byrnes in the article are (1) 
wath regard to electrification "for 
twenty miles out of Boston." Mr. 
Byrnes "promised that the New Haven 
would do it if given the opportunity." 
As the opportunity which Mr. Byrnes 
made a condition of this promise was 
not given, this surely was not a broken 
promise. (2) "He said that the 



merger would make possible the re- 
moval of one-half the waste." But, as 
there has been no merger of the kind 
to make this possible, again there was 
surely no broken promise. The next 
day, on the first page, "New England's 
Handicaps" appeared — in the same 
vein, raking up everything that could be 
turned into an attack on the company 
through high coloring and exaggeration, 
or worse. The next day (December 
14) appeared on the first page " Costly 
Deals of Mellen," beginning thus: 
"The New England Navigation Com- 
pany, known as Charles S. Mellen's 
laundry, could, if it wanted to, run a 
real laundry, hand or steam." Here 
the charge is made, as in many cases 
before, that the income on the invest- 
ment is small. A large income would 
naturally concern the general public 
more as evidence of excessive charges. 
But the small returns of most of the 
New Haven investments have from 
the first been harped upon by Mr. 
Brandeis and his associates. On 
December 16 appeared another of the 
articles written as an attack on the 
New Haven, entitled "Vermont is a 
Sufferer. Mellen's Mismanagement 
felt in Green Mountain State." 

These many attacks are in addition 
to the regular news items which were 
filling other newspapers during this 
period. On December 18, under small 
head-lines, appears the summary of a 
report from the engineer of the Public 
Utilities Commission, in which he says 
of the New Haven track conditions, 
"The road-bed in general was found 
to be in excellent condition, well 
ballasted, and true as to line and 
grade." Unless they saw this, the 
readers of the Post, largely influential 
people, must have believed that there 
was no virtue left to the property. 
On December 20, Mr. Mellen's reply to 
the many attacks on him was printed 
by the Evening Post as by other news- 
papers. But> though it was most de- 
sirable news, the "Post" which had given 
so many of its first pages to defaming 
Mr. Mellen, printed this reply on an 
inside page, while the principal head- 
lines on its first page were: " Stiffer 

Mexican Policy"; "Wilson sees Labor 
Chiefs"; "Commuters Rates Down"; 
"Graft Story Told Again." 

The Articles in the Boston "Post" 
and Boston "Journal" 

On Sunday, December 1, the Boston 
Post had a whole page from Mr. 
Brandeis. Recalling Mr. Brandeis's 
insistence in 1907 that then the New 
Haven was decrepit and its credit was 
strained to the uttermost, while the 
Boston & Maine's " financial condition 
had been growing steadily in strength, 
and the company was in a sound con- 
dition for further development of its 
transportation facilities," the reader of 
this page in the Boston Post could 
hardly be more astonished, In it Mr. 
Brandeis says: "When it began its 
movement, six years ago, to acquire 
control of the Boston & Maine system, 
the New Haven stood high, not only 
financially, but as an operating pro- 
perty. People compared the physical 
condition and service of the Boston & 
Maine and longed for that better 
service and better physical condition 
which they felt the New Haven could 
bring to the Boston & Maine lines. 
They also pointed to the fact that the 
New Haven was rich; that, with its 
income and its resources, its ability to 
secure new money was such that it, 
and it alone, could rehabilitate the 
Boston & Maine and furnish a railroad 
system adequate in all respects to the 
needs of New England. The physical 
condition of the New Haven was then 
much superior to that of the Boston & 
Maine, and in certain respects its 
service was also superior. Its ability 
to raise money was then undoubtedly 
great. But monopoly has proven a 
great leveller, and to-day the com- 
plaints of bad service on the New 
Haven system and the wrecks upon 
that system record the deadly efforts 
of monopoly, and during this same 
period monopoly has in a similar 
manner demoralized the finances of the 
New Haven road." 

Was Mr. Brandeis to be believed five 
years earlier, or is he now, nor at neither 



time? In 1912 it is "during this same 
period" (i.e., the previous six years) 
that the" New Haven finances had be- 
come "demoralized." But in 1907, 
they were "strained to the uttermost." 

"Besides having too much to do," 
says Mr. Brandeis, "these men (i.e., 
the New Haven officials) were obliged 
to perform without having money 
enough to do it with. Now what is 
the cause of this lack of money?" 
His answer is "the purchase of other 
transportation lines — of railroads, 
trolleys, and steamships — for the 
purpose of suppressing competition." 

Yet, since the New Haven manage- 
ment took charge of the Boston & 
Maine, #30,000,000 has been appropri- 
ated and largely expended in improv- 
ing that property, and Mr. Brandeis 
and his associates, as will appear, are 
authorities for the statement that on 
all the properties Mr. Mellen has had 
"something like #300,000,000 of new 
capital to play with" since he took 
charge. The ratio of operating ex- 
penses on the Boston & Maine has 
also been exceptionally high, showing 
large maintenance expenditures. On 
the New Haven, electrification has 
been carried further than on any other 
railroad in the world, and other ex- 
traordinary improvements, as already 
noted, have been installed. 

Mr. Brandeis asks: "Was the dis- 
regard of these recommendations (as 
to the cross-overs) of the Interstate 
Commerce Commission due to lack of 
time on the part of the high officials to 
give attention to the needs of the 
public, or was it due to lack of 
money to make these improvements ? 
Whether it was due to lack of time or 
lack of money, or both, it is very clear 
that it was due to this fatally false 
policy of monopoly." 

The unsophisticated reader may be 
induced to think that the alternatives 
thus offered are the only two possible. 
The truth is that neither lack of time 
nor lack of money seems to have led 
the New Haven officials to disregard 
the commission's recommendations, 
but an abiding faith that never again 
would an engineer run by a cross-over 

signal and that the New Haven officials 
themselves knew more than the com- 
mission about practical railroading. 
The report for the year ending June 30, 
1911 (p. 7), is interesting on this point. 
It says: "Not since the disaster at 
Norwalk in 1853 has your company ex- 
perienced the misfortune of such a 
serious accident as that which occurred 
to one of its principal passenger trains 
at Bridgeport on July 11, 1911. De- 
plorable as was this accident in the 
destruction of life and inj ury to person, 
a most thorough investigation by the 
company has proven to its satisfaction 
that the accident was not due to any 
lack of provision as far as human fore- 
sight could make for the absolutely 
safe movement of trains, supplemented 
by specific printed instructions for the 
government of employees." 

Here we find a period of forty-eight 
years without any such serious accident 
as occurred in 1911 in what Mr. 
Brandeis and his associates have 
called "the accident zone." There is 
no indication of lack of time, if the 
words " a most thorough investigation " 
mean anvthing, nor of lack of monev, if 
the £300',000,000, said by Mr. Brandeis 
and his associates to have been spent 
on the properties, is a figure within 
many millions of being correct. 

"Think of that!" comments Mr. 
Brandeis with regard to an effort to 
cut operating expenses on the Boston 
& Maine without seriously interfering 
with the service. What would he 
have? The real lack of money in the 
case of the Boston & Maine is the lack 
of earning power. One and a half per 
cent and two and a half per cent net 
earnings on stock for which a large 
premium has been paid require econo- 
mies in operation. Money has been 
poured into the property, but in- 
creases in wages have taken the place 
of ability to earn dividends. The 
"high officials" are themselves ac- 
cepting no salaries for their services. 
Would Mr. Brandeis not have them 
encourage their subordinates to every 
reasonable economy? 

Mr. Brandeis says, "The only 
remedy for this deplorable situation 



in New England is to break the 
monopoly." But the reader, if he stops 
to think, has in reality not had a "de- 
plorable situation" described to him. 

Perhaps the most significant feature 
of this, as of all Mr. Brandeis's pre- 
ceding attacks on the New Haven, is an 
extraordinary omission. While he 
insists that the Boston & Maine should 
be separated from the New Haven, 
and while he equally has insisted that 
the New Haven was close to bank- 
ruptcy because of various extravagant 
purchases at whatever time he might 
be writing about it, he did not say that 
the greatest of all its present financial 
burdens is the Boston & Maine stock 
which it has acquired. The effect of 
that substance in the soup is not men- 

In the Boston Journal of December 
13, 1912, is another page from Mr. 
Brandeis. It is mostly an argument 
against monopoly. But it assumes all 
the facts which are adverse to the New 
Haven and colors them as darkly as 
possible. Thus the very first words 
are, "The breakdown of transporta- 
tion in New England under the New 
Haven monopoly," thus assuming the 
whole case at issue before Commissioner 
Prouty and exaggerating whatever 
delays and short-comings there may 
be into a "breakdown" which every 
one knows has not taken place. "Our 
present ills" are likewise referred to 
as if there were no question about them. 
The freight service again calls out the 
adjective "demoralized." The wrecks 
are, as usual, dwelt upon, this time the 
inadequacy of regulation being linked 
with them. "Bigness" is called a 
curse. And set off from the rest of 
the article by substantially larger 
type is the following: "The only re- 
dress or remedy which is possible is 
through breaking up the monopoly; 
and it may be broken either under the 
Sherman anti-trust law or by the states 
exercising sovereign powers to take 
away a part of the New Haven's prop- 
erty, as the Boston & Maine." Thus 
at the end, as at the beginning, Mr. 
Brandeis has had the same object. 

Mr. Mellen's Reply 

These various persistent attacks 
must be known, to understand the 
meaning of Mr. Mellen's reply dated 
December 20, 1912, and published far 
and wide on December 20 and 21. 

Mr. Mellen said of the Grand Trunk 
fiasco: "I am not responsible for either 
the beginning or the end of the Grand 
Trunk's attempt to reach Providence. 
I will make this statement as positive 
as any one could wish. The news- 
paper people knew the decision of the 
Grand Trunk managers to suspend 
their construction into Providence be- 
fore I did, and I never took a single 
step personally or officially to cause or 
promote or hasten that decision." 
He proceeds: "The agitation to mis- 
lead the people started with my re- 
fusal to pay an abnormal price for a 
privately held block of Boston & 
Maine shares." Though the criticism 
against him has hinged on the alleged 
high prices paid by him for certain 
properties, "all the agitation against 
my management of the New England 
lines goes back to this refusal to pay 
more than double their present value 
for a block of Boston & Maine shares." 
Further he proceeds: "The most widely 
spread and deeply rooted slander 
against the New Haven management 
and myself personally is that I agreed 
in writing, through Mr. Choate, our 
attorney at the Massachusetts State 
House, never to buy any more traction 
properties in Massachusetts, and later 
broke this agreement. What was 
agreed to and fully set forth in pages 
of correspondence was that, pending 
consideration of proposed legislation 
that would enable the New York, 
New Haven, & Hartford Railroad 
Company to give the people of western 
Massachusetts greatly increased trans- 
portation facilities, . . . the New Haven 
would take no further proceedings in 
this development while the matter was 
under consideration by the committee 
and the legislature." Thus Mr. 
Choate 's letter, quoted in the Evening 
Post of November 23, alone, was really 
part of a detailed correspondence, the 



meaning of which was quite different 
from the apparent meaning of the 
single letter. There was no intima- 
tion of this in the Evening Post. Says 
Mr. Mellen: "I shall be pleased to sub- 
mit to the public the entire corres- 
pondence, which was placed in the files 
of the Railroad Committee in 1906, 
and which for more than six years has 
been misrepresented before the people. 
As for having "promised electrification 
for Boston and breaking that prom- 
ise," he points out that this promise 
has as a condition the merger of the 
New Haven and the Boston & Maine, 
and a chance "to go on with its plans." 
But the Commission on Commerce 
and Industry "did not recommend the 
plan of the New Haven Company. On 
the contrary, it refused to recommend 
legislation for the unification of the 
properties." "I may offer in all good 
faith to do many things, but I cannot 
perform if you persist in tying my 
hands." Mr. Mellen states that 
"practically all steamboat lines op- 
erated by the New Haven on the Sound 
came with its leased lines. These 
6teamboat lines do not in themselves 
pay. They can only be justified in 
connection with a business like the 
railroads, which they can help and 
which can relieve its congestion through 
them." He is explicit that, when 
"Mr. Morse acquired the Metropolitan 
Steamship Company, the outside line 
between Boston and New York, he 
raised the rates that had obtained for 
a long time." Mr. Mellen, at the 
request of the Boston Chamber of 
Commerce, put on an additional line 
in competition with the old rates. 
"The outside steamship rates have 
remained down to the old basis to the 
present day as a result." He pro- 
ceeds: "The passenger rates on the 
New Haven road to-day average lower 
than they were when I took charge of 
the property nine years ago, and no 
passenger rate on the Boston & Maine 
has been increased since I took charge. 
The extreme reduction has not been 
maintained in all cases. For instance, 
I reduced the fare from Boston to New 
York from $5.00 to $4.65, but, when the 

expense of our New York terminal had 
to be assumed, I added ten ceiv to 
the reduced rate, making it £4-75, a 
net reduction of twenty-five cents from 
the original." 

The report of the New Haven Com- 
pany for the year ending June 30, 
1910, confirms this statement of Mr. 
Mellen. In that year the advances in 
wages were such as to cost the com- 
pany $1,757,506 annually. About half 
of this sum was to be made good from 
increases in passenger fares, amounting 
to $858,753. The first item in the 
table of increases is, "Ten cents ad- 
vance between New York, Providence, 
and Boston." 

Mr. Mellen in his statement con- 
tinues: "We have done everything 
that could be thought of, not con- 
sidering expense in the least, to make 
our road the best in the country. No 
road is so far advanced towards elec- 
trification. Experts from all countries 
in the world have been sent to note 
our progress." Of Mr. Brandeis he 
says: "He maintains an organization 
that has been preparing for very many 
weeks to inflame the public by volleys 
of attacks of the most personal, vicious, 
cruel, and unrighteous character upon 
me personally and upon my manage- 
ment of the New England lines, assail- 
ing my integrity, denouncing the 
financial management with false and 
distorted figures. Every one of these 
attacks defaming New England and 
its railroad system, so far as I have 
learned, traces back to Brandeis, his 
associates or organization." 

On the day after Mr. Mellen's state- 
ment appeared, Mr. Brandeis replied 
from Chicago in the Boston Sunday 
Herald, December 22, 1912. He spoke 
as before of "the deplorable condition 
of transportation in New England" 
and of the "demoralized service." He 
also spoke of the New Haven's diffi- 
culty in earning its dividends and of 
the endeavor "to make the people 
bear the burdens of mismanagement 
which should properly fall upon the 
stockholders." But here is a more 
specific contribution: "It must be sup- 
posed," says Mr. Brandeis, "that the 



people of New England have, indeed, 
short memories when it is asserted that 
passenger rates have been reduced. 
Increases in fares were made on both 
the New Haven and the Boston & 
Maine, July 1, 1910, which placed upon 
the traveling public an added burden 
of over $1,500,000." In view of Mr. 
Mellen's categorical statement to the 
contrary in the case of the Boston & 
Maine, and the accuracy of his state- 
ments as to a net reduction on the 
New Haven, the burden of proof would 
seem to be strongly on Mr. Brandeis 
to substantiate this fresh charge. 

The Articles 


The next "volleys of attacks" in the 
newspapers came from Mr. Brandeis's 
old friend of Ballinger days, Collier's. 
In the issue of January 4 and in that 
of January 11 most sensational arti- 
cles, pages long, appeared, written by 
Mr. Carl Snyder with "the aid of Louis 
D. Brandeis in securing the informa- 
tion." Offensive cartoons add to the 
lurid tone of the articles. 

In the earlier of the articles in 
Collier's is a heading, "The Tremendous 
Protest of Industry." Under this 
heading appears the following: "All 
this is simply attested by the perfect 
torrent of protest and investigation 
which is rife. But I have preferred 
to give as well a little of the documen- 
tary evidence. The extracts from 
complaints of many different shippers 
in every part of New England which 
are printed herewith are drawn from 
over seven hundred complaints re- 
reived within a little more than a year 
by the Boston Chamber of Commerce." 
Extracts from seventeen complaints 
are then presented. After these the 
following comment is made: " It will be 
noted that these letters, with a few 
exceptions, are all from among those 
received within a little over a month 
preceding this writing." 

Thus wrote Mr. Carl Snyder, with 
"the aid of Louis D. Brandeis," in 
Collier's of January 4. The seventeen 
complaints, "drawn from over 700," 
are as imposing as a stage army, if 

not examined closely. But, like a 
stage army, which returns again from 
behind the scenes, nine, or over one- 
half, of these seventeen complaints 
did equally valiant duty in the New 
York Evening Post of November 23, 
after being introduced with equal im- 
pressiveness. All but four of the 
startling array in the Post of November 
23 reappear, framed a little differently 
but perfectly recognizable to startle 
the readers of Collier's on January 4, 
and are drawn as if by chance from 
over seven hundred, ostensibly by a 
different author, in a different news- 
paper, and labelled practically a brand- 
new fresh supply. Can there be any 
doubt that both the "Evening Post" ar- 
ticles and those in "Collier's" are part of 
the same deliberately organized attack? 
The consignment of "practically full 
carloads" " out of Fitchburgfor Worces- 
ter" here serves a third time. 

Mr. Snyder, with the aid of Mr. 
Brandeis, gets into further hot water, 
in so far as people do not have "indeed 
short memories." With Mr. Bran- 
deis's aid he says: "The Boston & 
Maine in 1907 was about like the New 
Haven in 1903, — a railroad on the 
down-grade. At that time (i.e., 1907) 
the New Haven finances seemed dis- 
tinctly on the up-grade; those of the 
Boston & Maine were the reverse." 
Not only is this the very opposite of 
what Mr. Brandeis said in 1907 but 
it is interesting now to note that from 
1903 to 1907, under Mr. Mellen's 
management, the New Haven had not 
changed from a strong corporation to 
a weak one, but from one on the down- 
grade to one on the up-grade. Mr. 
Snyder puts this reverse picture very 
strongly. "In every way," he says 
of Mr. Mellen's management, "in the 
first few years, the results seemed 

In the Collier's articles, Mr. Mellen 
is likened to a "buccaneer," and his 
kind of work to "piracy," the patrons 
of his road he is accused of flouting as 
"scum"; "the purchase of the Boston 
& Maine has so far been an unequivocal 
failure" is at last admitted; the charge 
of a broken promise in the statement 



of Mr. Mellen's attorney, Mr. Choate, 
is repeated, regardless of Mr. Mellen's 
statement made two weeks earlier, 
that the whole correspondence was 
open to the public and showed that 
this charge was not true; most of the 
other charges, whether denied or not, 
are likewise repeated in the darkest 
coloring; and the articles close thus: 
"Latterly, when he had begun to feel 
a little more the force of this storm of 
protest, Mr. Mellen is content to 
charge it all to the machinations of the 
evil Mr. Brandeis. In which latter 
connection it may merely be noted 
that Mr. Brandeis had set forth the 
conditions of the New Haven and the 
nature of Mr. Mellen's doings fully 
five years ago in his pamphlet, and in 
numberless subsequent speeches; and 
that his reward was merely to see a 
Massachusetts Legislature, elected 
after a full disclosure of the facts, 
condone and approve all of Mr. 
Mellen's acts. This evil-minded man 
has but the melancholy satisfaction of 
finding all his predictions regarding the 
results of Mr. Mellen's activities in 

The articles dwell upon the vast 
sums (said to be $300,000,000) which 
Mr. Mellen has spent. The purpose 
is, not to show that the usefulness of 
the railroad companies must have 
been increased, but to create an im- 
pression that interest and dividend 
charges must be sensationally heavy. 
Mr. Snyder puts this point thus: 
"The interest of the public is that 
it is on capital thus expended that Mr. 
Mellen and his kind demand the right 
to charge sufficient freight and pas- 
senger rates to pay a high interest 
charge and eight per cent dividends on 
the stock." Throughout the Brandeis 
literature the high eight per cent 
dividend rate is dwelt on. The New 
Haven report of June 30, 1908 (p. 7), 
is interesting as to this: "The com- 
pany has realized for the stock issued 
by it largely in excess of $100 per 
share, one recent subscription having 
been taken at the price of $175 per 
share. The rate of return to our 
stockholders upon the average price 

paid for their shares has been not in 
excess of four and a half per cent per 
annum, and a recent valuation of the 
company's property indicates that an 
eight per cent dividend amounts to 
a return to stockholders of less than 
four per cent of the replacement value 
of their property." The report of 
June 30, 1912 (p. 6), shows that, in- 
stead of the annual deficits so often 
mentioned by Mr. Brandeis, the New 
Haven system in the eight years then 
closed earned $8,176,436.43 above the 
dividends paid. 

These persistent attacks have had 
results in inflaming public sentiment. 
The motives of the railroad manage- 
ment are misinterpreted without ex- 
amination of the facts, and any efforts 
they may make, though in the public 
interest, are hampered. To realize 
how far the pendulum has swung it is 
instructive to see the opinion of Gover- 
nor Foss, then a private citizen, when 
the merger question first arose. 

In June, 1907, when Mr. Brandeis's 
attacks began, Mr. Foss was an ardent 
advocate of Mr. Mellen's policies. 
"I have studied this railroad problem 
from a manufacturer's point of view 
as well as from that of a stockholder," 
said he in his speech at Plymouth on 
June 14, 1907, "and for the life of me 
I cannot see anything but good to 
come from the merger." He asked his 
audience whether Boston would like 
to give up its single street railroad 
service and go back to the several little 
companies once operating in the city. 
He referred to the extreme difficulty of 
getting goods shipped from the south 
to the north side of Boston. "The 
territory served by these two systems," 
he contended, "is not of sufficient 
magnitude to require two independent 
roads. As a manufacturer and one of 
the largest shippers in New England, 
I cannot see anything but good to 
come from this merger." "I hope," 
said he then, "that the next thing that 
Mr. Mellen will do will be to acquire 
the Central Vermont (i.e., the Grand 
Trunk's New England branch), which 
will give us a short line to Montreal, 
and that we shall soon see vestibule 



trains between Boston and Montreal 
the equal of those between New 
York and Boston. I think the Boston 
& Maine ought to have acquired the 
Central Vermont and not permitted it 
to go into the hands of the Grand 
Trunk. ,, 

Governor Foss was one of those who 
attacked the New Haven for its sup- 
posed connection with the Grand 
Trunk stopping of work, and if this 
were taken as showing a reversal of 
attitude, it might represent in an 
extreme degree a persistently nurtured 
change of public sentiment. It is 
important to note, however, that in his 
inaugural this year, though condemn- 
ing the control of the Boston & Maine 
through the medium of the Boston 
Railroad Holding Company, yet he 
carefully refrained from expressing an 
opinion that direct control by the New 
Haven, with full responsibility to the 
public, and under due supervision, 
would be against public interest. The 
inference is reasonable that he still 
believes this should be brought about. 

The Governor of Connecticut says 
that that state is satisfied with the 
service which it is receiving, and the 
Governor of Maine says that his state 
is pleased with it. Said the latter, 
January 26, after Governor Foss had 
invited all the governors of New Eng- 
land to a conference: "Boston for 
many years has been the worst station 
we have to pass. It is the only place 
between Maine and New York at 
which we have to change cars and pay 
the Armstrong Transfer Company 
hack and hotel bills. Our state is 
full of factories whose products are 
sold there. Sometimes we go by the 
way of Springfield, and avoid what we 
call the 'Boston hold-up.' Now, if we 
could do anything to help you im- 
prove this condition, you may be 
assured that the people of Maine are 
at your service." 

Alas! To this "hold-up," to this 
worst interruption to New England 
transportation, Mr. Brandeis's princi- 
pal, Mr. Lawrence, was committed 
at the very outset of this narrative. 


The writer of this analysis has reached many conclusions in the 
course of his work. He ventures to offer the following: That the 
people of Massachusetts should beware of sensational stories re- 
cently afloat in connection with the railroad situation in New Eng- 
land. He himself at first heeded them sufficiently to become an 
adverse critic of Mr. Mellen. One day the New York " Evening Post " 
article of November 23 was shown him. That was so palpably unjust 
as to lead to a search for more information. At each new turn new 
surprises were encountered, convincing him that our people should 
beware of being led by such tactics into the dangerous experiment of 
state ownership of the Boston & Maine. Until the two years, more 
or less, have elapsed which the New Haven management declares, 
will be required to carry out definite plans for rehabilitating the 
Boston & Maine, it seems unwise to " swap horses." Already the 
extraordinary freight congestion of the autumn seems relieved, and 
Mr. Mellen and his associates are now manifestly doing their utmost 
to please the public. 



IT is almost a century ago, to be 
exact, in the summer of 1815, 
that Luther Hoar, with two 
companions, went from Madrid 
across the mountains to spy out the 
Dead River Region because a rumor 
of the presence of hostile Indians had 
reached that little hamlet. 

Luther Hoar was a born pioneer. 
But a year had gone by since he and 
his family had removed from the 
historic town of Concord, Mass., to 
Madrid, and here he was already spying 
out a more remote wilderness. No 
Indians were seen, but the man was so 
impressed by the country he had 
traversed that he stopped to explore a 
big lake whose beauty and loneliness 
had penetrated his soul. Here on a 
northern height, looking southward 
over the lake, with the wonderful 
landmark Saddleback on his left hand 
and Bald Mountain on his right, he 
felled trees and made a clearing. He 
then followed his companions back to 
Madrid. The next year he came 
through again, burned over his clear- 
ing and planted potatoes. After har- 
vesting a good crop, he housed them in 
a pit which he had dug deep for that 
purpose, and carefully covering them to 
protect them from the long winter's 
cold, struck out for home. This was 
in the fall. 

In early April of the next year 
might have been seen an American 
father and mother with a sturdy brood 
of youngsters trudging onward over 
the snow which lay hard and firm be- 
neath the spruce and pine of this 
northern wilderness. On its kindly 
supporting glaze they dragged behind 
them on hand-made sledges their 
scanty stock of household goods and 
plenishings. Spring then as now was 

the recognized time for moving, but for 

far different reasons. 

The family consisted of John, David 
and William of the older ones; Joseph, 
who had attained to the age of thirteen, 
and the three youngsters, Daniel, 
Sally and Mary. Luther, the oldest, 
had been left behind, adopted by a 
family in Madrid. The total nu- 
merical strength of the family has not 
yet been reached, for on one of those 
sledges, wrapped warmly against the 
winter's cold, and securely tied in a big 
bread-mixing trough, lay the baby of 
the family — Kunice Hoar. Of all 
this family, little Eunice was destined 
to be the most famous, for as she lay 
sleeping in her improvised cradle, 
something happened to her which 
was destined to be told wherever a 
native and a summer visitor, or t 
guide and a sportsman get together 
and talk about the first settlers. 

They had reached the top of one of 
the long heights which marked their 
way, and the nucleus of the future 
township had paused for breath, when 
it was discovered that Eunice and the 
mixing trough were gone. 

The little band retraced their weary 
way, disheartened, for on that glaze 
of snow no track or trace was dis- 
cernible. At last, after a long and 
weary search, the sharp eye of one of 
the children discovered a twig at one 
side of the trail, that looked a little 
bent. Off they started at right angles 
to the trail, and far down the mountain 
side, lodged against a giant evergreen, 
they found the bread tray and in it, 
still sound asleep, — Baby Eunice. 

At last, after a long day's travel, 
they came to the beautiful lake which 
the Indians had named Oquossoc. 
The region around this part of the lake 




Son of Lucinda Hoar, the first white child born in Rangeley 

was later named Greenvale. Here 
they found the huge dugout which 
Luther Hoar had used and hidden the 
previous fall. Although amply able to 
contain the whole family, for it was 
made from one of the primeval pines 
which gave to Maine its famous so- 
briquet, they yet must walk the re- 

maining four miles across on the ice, for 
the lake was frozen hard and fast. 

When they reached the headland 
which Luther Hoar had selected as the 
site of their future home, they built 
their camp-fire and prepared for the 
first of many nights in the open. A 
bitter disappointment awaited these 




hungry, tired pioneers. When Deacon 
Hoar went to the pit which he had 
stored full of potatoes, he found it 
€mpty. The potatoes were g< >ne! 

During the winter, the Indians had 
discovered them and had tared sump- 
tuously on the first fruits of Luther 
Hoar's industry. After their scanty 
supply of provisions was exhausted, 
until their first crop was harvested in 
the fall, the family lived principally on 
ground nuts. So thoroughly was this 
form of food searched out and devoured 
that there have never been seen any 
ground nuts in Rangeley from that 
day to this. 

It was on the fifth of May, 1817, 
that Deacon Hoar and his family built 
their first camp-fire. They had laid 
the foundations of a settlement which 
was destined to become famous under a 
name not their own, but that of a 
stranger and an alien. 

There is yet another member of the 
family to be accounted for. Over a 
year had gone when, one July day, 
Joseph, now a big-fourteen-year-old 
boy, got into the big dugout and 
paddled across the lake. Here he 
struck out along the spotted line for 
Aladrid. When he returned, two davs 

later, he w alk 
accompanied bj 

middle age. She is known in 
spoken I raditions I R 
Mis' Dill." She arrived in thi 
cabin of the Hoar family n< n< 
soon, for on the night of July 10, with- 
out other aid than that of this old 
midwife, in that far out] ; the 

northern frontier the heroic p:< 
mother brought forth the hr>t white 
child of the future township — Lu- 
cinda Hoar. 

The old midwife liked the place and 
in a year's time she came back a. 
accompanied by her husband, this 
time to stay. 

The first birth naturally calls to 
mind its antithesis and. appropriately 
enough, Freeman Tibbetts. a noted 
guide, the son of Lucinda Hoar, - 
the narrator. 

'"Old Mis' Dill' was the first white 
person buried here." said he. 
wanted to go to Madrid to see her folks, 
so Uncle Dan'l (Jie was the youngest 
son) walked across the lake with 
and set her upon the trail to Madrid. 
'Twas in the winter. As they went by 
Dixon's Island, she see a pine that was 
all bent over. 'What is that:' says 




she, for she was old, seventy years, and 
more too, I guess. Uncle Dan'l he 
telled her what it was. 'That looks 
like a house waitin' for me,' says she. 

"Well, Uncle Dan'l, he put her on 
the trail and she went on. She got as 
fur as 'The Height of the Land,' and 
then she must have got tired and 
turned round and come back. Some 
folks come in from Madrid that day 
and they see where she had broken off 
some twigs and set down and they 
followed her trail down the mountings 
and across the lake to Dixson's Island, 
and there they found her right under 
that bent old pine tree — froze to 

There was a pause, then, "Did you 
ever hear how they got their bread?" 
he asked, reverting to his grandfather's 

"Grandfather Hoar used to put a 
bushel of corn on his back and walk to 
Strong. It was twelve miles to Madrid ; 
from Madrid to Phillips was six miles, 
and from Phillips to Strong was six 
miles more, and he walked there and 
back in three days and carried a 
bushel of corn besides. He was a 
powerful man. 

"He was some kin to Senator Hoar 
of Massachusetts," went on Freeman 
after a pause. "It was a number of 
years after he come in to Rangeley 
before a horse could get through, but 
after that grandfather used to ride to 
Massachusetts and back to see his 
relatives most every year. 

"I remember well the last time he 
went. He come home and rode into 
the barn. His wife she come out to see 
him. 'How do you feel?' says she. 
He was a hangin' up his saddle when 
he answered her. 'Fine,' says he, and 
with that he dropped at her feet — 
stone dead." 

The year 1825 saw a happening that 
meant great things for this little settle- 
ment along Oquossoc Lake, for by this 
time other families had come in, — the 
Rowes, the Thomases, the Kimballs 
and the Quimbys in the order named. 

This happening was the advent of 
the man after whom the whole coun- 
try roundabout this beautiful lake was 
to be named and even the great chain 
of lakes itself, — Squire Rangeley. He 
and his wife with two sons and two 
daughters came through on the 
spotted line. It must have been a 



strange experience for this English 
gentleman and his family to travel in 
such fashion, and stranger yet must it 
have seemed to them when they 
emerged upon the borders of the lake 
that this sparsely cleared country was 
to be their home. 

Who was Squire Rangeley and how 
happened he to come to this remote 
settlement of the northern frontier? 
He was of a good old Yorkshire family 
which owned Tweed Mill near Yorks, 
England, and who, according to a great- 
grandson now living in England, wenl 
out to America to redeem a bad debt. 
His wife's people were the Newbolds, 
likewise of Yorkshire, their place being 
at Intake, North Sheffield. A third 
sonwas left in England with hismol her's 
family during their proposed briei 
sojourn in America. Mr. Kimball, 
who ran the first stage line which con- 
nected Rangeley with the outer world, 
is still living and says: "It was the 
time of a great land speculation. I ,and 
was lotted out and explored and then 
Rangeley came." 

Even with this explanation it might 
still be a puzzle to account for the fact 
that an English gentleman, but re- 
cently arrived in New York City, 
should come to know of land in a 
northern outpost of New England. A 
hunter, guide and patriarch who had 
heard much of Squire Rangeley from 
both his father and mother, gave the 

"Rangeley got this place by his 
folks. It fell to them through the 
Seventeen Hundred and Seventy Six 
War, through depredations they had 
committed." It may take the reader 
some time to puzzle out the meaning 
of this statement. 

"This here was a certain tract of 
land, set off, you understand. So 
when he came and found people had 
settled it, he was tickled to death. He 
built a grist-mill and sawmill for them. 

"He was a kind man. 'Don't haul 
your lumber way down to the mill. 
Cut my lumber/ he would say. Of 
course there was plenty of lumber then, 
but Burnham wouldn't have acted 
that way." 

Of this same Burnham we shall hear 
more, later. 

"He didn't make the people 
had settled here pay for their land; he 
was only tOO Had to have the ; 
settled. He claimed he come here fur 
his health, but he can i 

** \\ hen he built hit hoil I 
fore the sawmill was built, air: 

; art of it was done by hand Lai 
In them day-, they would -aw t h 
three logs in a day, tv. trould. I 

don't know just where they lived at 

but it must have been in a 
house till the lilt." 

1 ,el u • his house, which, 

its location and the circui 
under which it was built, seems ai: 
a- much "f an aclnc 
the pyramids. 

All around the h< the 

clapboards and the plastering 
brick wall. Thei brick parti- 

tion-, hidden by pi; 
the rooms. The .■■ 
tained a 1ml- brick < \ en, tin 
had brick fire-plaa , B the 

kitchen and dinii "Man- 

sion I '. as the v : . 

of it. contained f< >ur rooms, 1 n the 

ground floor and two on th< 
Underneath all was the cellar hewn out 
of the solid rock. 

It would have been a house of i 
in Portland: for that locality it was a 
veritable castle. 

Of the original house only tv. 
remain, — the kitchen and its con- 
necting dining-room. Every vestig 
a brick has disappeared, gone to the 
village two miles away to assist in its 
upbuilding. The ''Mansion Part" 
has likewise gone to the same place, 
where it served as a separate dwelling 
until destroyed by the lire which 
burned up Rangeley. more than thirty 
years ago. 

The floors of the remaining rooms 
deserve a parting word, for they are 
made of half logs of the real "Punkin 
Pine," some of them twenty-seven 
inches in diameter, and if one g 
down cellar he can gaze up at the 
scalloped ceiling above him. made by 



;;=,:;;"::■ . •■' 



the reverse side of these same 

Deck Quimby, a well-known Range- 
ley character, thus describes the Squire: 
"He was a good man, Squire Rangeley 
was, he paid people what they asked. 
My father worked for him seven 
months and got this farm. Uncle 
Dan Quimby dug the old Rangeley 
well. That well is forty-two foot 
deep. It took Uncle Dan seven 
months and he got a hundred acres fur 
it. Good land, too. It's the Alton 
Quimby Farm, now. 

"It was while my father was workin' 
fur Squire Rangeley that he met my 
mother. She lived in Phillips but she 
come here to work for Squire Rangeley. 
She was the first hired girl that was 
ever in the Town of Rangeley. Her 
father was a blacksmith and he made 
her a shovel and a pair of tongs fur a 
wedding present and he made my 
father a chainhook. I use it now. 

"But all Squire Rangeley's tools 
come from England. He didn't have 
none of them made here. He got 
everything from England. 

"He wouldn't go to Boston and he 
wouldn't trust anybody in Boston or 

Portland either. All he knew was 

"There were two tradin' vessels that 
did his business for him. It took a 
year, and weather had to be pretty 
good or it would take longer. These 
tradin' vessels would come as fur as 
Portland. Then they'd put the things 
into smaller boats and come as fur as 
Hallowell and from there on teams to 
Madrid. Then from there they'd 
bring 'em through by the spotted line. 

"They had to take account of stock 
every little while to see how low they 
were gettin'. Still, if the vessel hap- 
pened to be three weeks late, they 
would get pretty short of some things. 

"He used to say to my father, 'Go, 
tap on the barrel of rum, David.' The 
Squire, he was afraid the rum would 
run out before the other barrel got 
here. He had a barrel on the way all 
the time. He had two barrels and he 
used to keep them goin' back and forth 
to England. It was cheaper doin' that 
than buyin' a new barrel every time. 

"While the cellar of his house was 
bein' built, every day, just such a 
time, he'd pass each man down a glass 
of liquor. 



A RANGE I \\ M>lll KM AN - I 1 \ K \ I>1 - I 

"His money would conic from Eng- 
land once a year in an iron box. It 
the vessel had sunk, that would have 
gone, too. 

"One time the salt give out. \ ou 
know salt had to come from Eng- 
land, too, like everything else. Well, 
one year, the vessel was so late that 
w r hen it got here, the sheep was 
salt hungry. Well, Squire Rangeley. 
he thought he'd give 'em the salt him- 
self, so he let down the bars and 
stepped inside. Well, them sheep 
smelled the salt and was on him in a 
minute. They jumped on him and 
knocked him down, and if my father 
and some others hadn't heard him call, 
he'd 'a been killed. That night he 
says to my father 'You couldn't put a 
pin point on my body but their damned 
huffs hev been there! 

"He was a dreadful neat man. He 
wouldn't have the hawgs near his house 
and all the slops had to be carried way 
down the hill and thrown into the 
swamp. He said they worked their 

wa\ through the gn und thing 

like that. 

"He was an Englishman — he was 

funny," said Deck, as if the one were 

necessarily the corollary I 'her. 

"lie claimed new-turned ground 
healthy. He never held a plough him- 
self but he would walk all day in a 
furrow. He always wore a nil 
coat to keep out the heat. He used to 
to say to my father. 'I don't see how 
you can stand the heat in your thin 
shirt. Here I be in a rubber coat and 
a heavy coat under that and I'm most 

"But he was a nice man. He paid 
all wages right down in money. He 
would payamantwelvedollars a month. 
My mother, she got fifty cents a week 
the first year she worked for him ai 
dollar and a half a week the year after. 

"My mother had to learn to cook 
the English way for the Squire and 
family but she cooked our way for the 
men; and the Squire's childre:: g I 
of it and liked it. I suppose they must 



have told their father and mother for, 
after awhile, Squire Rangeley would 
come out in the kitchen and say to her, 
' Now, then, Happy, make some of them 
nice light flakes for dinner.' He 
meant our salleratus biscuit. The 
English like their bread baked hard — 
sort of logy, you know. They got so 
that they liked our way of cookin' 
meat, too. The Squire, he was very 
fond of little pigs, baked. Oh, they 
were real sportin' people!" 

The years went on. - The sawmill 
and the grist-mill were built; and like- 
wise a read of more than ten miles in 
length (the first of its kind) to connect 
the township, and its great product 
lumber, with the outside world. 

When one considers the difficulties 
that stood in the way of these enter- 
prises, the isolation of this little com- 
munity, the well-nigh impossibility of 
procuring any labor other than hand 
labor and, to crown all, the immense dif- 
ficulties in the way of transportation, 
one stands amazed at the results 
achieved by this English gentleman 
and his American auxiliaries. 

But the last undertaking was the 
proverbial last straw. Before it was 
completed, Squire Rangeley had come 
to realize that his ideas for the develop- 

ment of the region were premature and 
belonged to a later generation. 

Another reason for their going may 
even now be found in the town of 
Phillips. Behind the Old Court 
House, which was once known as "The 
Centre Meeting House," is a little old 
cemetery, and in this cemetery may be 
seen a stone so spotted by the passage 
of time that much of its lettering is 
indiscernible, but this can still be 

"In memory of 
Sarah Rangeley 
Died Dec. 25, 1827 
Aged 19 years," 

together with a lengthy epitaph which 
speaks of her sorrowing parents. At 
the base of the tombstone, on the right- 
hand side, is the name of the engraver 
and his residence, which is given as 
Augusta, England. Thus the trad- 
ing vessel which had brought so much 
good cheer to Rangeley was once 
weighed down by a burden which no 
amount of engraving could lighten, 
even though it came from dear old Eng- 

In the almost Arctic cold of a Ran- 
geley winter, the life of the young girl 





went out. As no medical aid had been 
available, neither was there an) con- 
solation of the clergy. To use the 

language of an old man who as a little 
boy had seen the English Squire in his 
latter days at Rangeley, "Squire 
Rangeley sent a man for a good man. 
whom he liked, to preach the funeral 

Over the deep snow of that far-off 
winter, the body of the young girl was 
drawn on a hand sledge to Phillips. 
Here it lay,unburied, for many months, 
the dear hope of the sorrowing family 
being to take it with them to that 
England to which the}" looked forward 
to return before long. 

Things fell out far differently, and 
August 4, 1841 found them in Port- 
land whence Squire Rangeley writes 
Seward Dill, Esq., concerning an offer 
which the latter had made him for the 
property at the lake and also about 
a law-suit which he was having with 
Air. Burnham in New Hampshire. 

It was during the residence in Port- 
land, which lasted two or three years 
that the Squire was preparing for his 
flitting. He eventually sold the Town- 
ship of Rangeley to that Mr. Burnham 
who has been mentioned more than 

once in thoc chronicle-. A 


Deck Quimby, the Squire - 
large 1 ract of land in \ irginia. i I 
says, "H< tit 1 

\ irginia one winter and liked the cli- 
mate better. They found thai 
had meddled with their land." He and 
his family then _-inia 

where Deck says, "They kc;. 
one hundred and fifty or that amount." 
Neither he nor any member 
family ever returned to that beautiful 
lake country to which he had given not 
only a name but its first real impetus 
toward civilization. Nor did they 
ever return to that England which 
the}' regarded so highly. Both - i 
went through the Civil War. James 
being a colonel in the southern army, 
and their descendants are yet living in 
Henry county. Virginia. 

Thus the English country gentleman 
left his impress upon two widely differ- 
ing sections of America. In that land 
where he had expected but to conclude 
a business venture, he found a country 
and a grave. 

And now we come to Burnham. Ran- 
geley's last real squire, as he may be 
called, for he was the last entire owner 



of the township save only for a strip of 
land at its eastern end which Squire 
Rangeley had sold to another man. 

There are probably more stories told 
in connection with Burnham than with 
any other man who has ever been con- 
nected with Rangeley in any capacity 
whatsoever, be it farmer, guide, sports- 
man or landed proprietor. 

In person he was tall, " Kind o' big 
through his shoulders," and of ruddy 
complexion. The old proprietor of the 
first stage line that connected Rangeley 
with the outer world, Mr. Kimball, 
here went on with a description of his 
costume. "He used to wear a black 
swallowtail coat, a white vest, and a 
tall, black fur slick hat," said he rumi- 
natively. "He used to go like a 
gentleman on horseback, all rigged up." 

This was the appearance of Squire 
Burnham as he came riding into 
Rangeley, one fine morning, to take 
possession of his lately acquired do- 
main. The new proprietary, like his 
predecessor, was to live at "The Old 
Rangeley Place." Unlike his pre- 
decessor, he was, although past middle 
age, unmarried; and consequently a 
man named Elliot looked after the 
place while his wife kept house for the 
new Squire. To say that Elliot looked 
after the place is not quite correct, for, 
whenever he was at home, Burnham 
kept a sharp supervision. One 
instance will be sufficient to show the 
fine scrutiny to which he subjected his 
hirelings. One day they were haying 
and he being present, and observing 
that the grass grew sparsely in places, 
ordered the mowers to skip those spots 
with their scythes whenever thay came 
to them; this being in order to save the 
expense of just so much of the men's 
time as would be employed in mowing 
an insignificant quantity of grass. Of 
course, not being versed in the science 
of mowing, his order caused just the 
opposite effect to that intended, as the 
effort of lifting the scythe and carrying 
it a few feet took as long or longer than 
it would to have done the mowing; 
while the grass left standing was a 
source of annoyance and hindrance to 
the haymakers who came after. 

Mention has been made of the 
Squire's age. Up to the time of his 
death no one in Rangeley knew how 
old he was. With simple or deep 
guile, plans were laid to entrap him 
into a categorical statement, but he, 
keener witted than any of his adver- 
saries, saw through them all ere they 
came to the point and was always ready 
with an answer whose form never varied. 

Upon one occasion he remarked that 
he had been present when Boston's first 
mayor had been inaugurated. One of 
his auditors with that broad brow of 
calm innocence which the Yankee 
knows so well how to assume, said 
carelessly, "How old were you at that 
time, Squire Burnham?" The habit- 
ual answer came quick as a flash: 
"None of your business, damn you!' 

The English Squire, with training, 
feeling, and traditions entirely foreign 
to his surroundings and surrounders, 
had yet been liked and respected. His 
American successor was just the re- 
verse. He, like his predecessor, came 
to make money, but his methods were 
a total overturning of all that had gone 
before. He was as like to Squire 
Rangeley as is a man who tears down to 
one who builds up. The result is 
written in the interior of "The Old 
Rangeley Place." In the lower right 
hand corner of one of the upper panels 
of a door belonging to the dining-room 
is a small hole, the original sharpness of 
whose outline has been smoothed over 
by a long lapse of time. 

The story goes that one evening 
Squire Burnham was sitting in the 
stately "Mansion Part" of his newly 
acquired manor-house, reading by 
candlelight when a' bullet whizzed 
close by his head and on through the 
door beyond. The Squire being a 
man of great readiness of decision did 
not stop to make inquiries or to debate 
upon the manner of his going but, 
with a bound, made for his rock-hewn 
cellar, where he spent the rest of the 
night. Upon another occasion he was 
forced to seek the shelter of his rocky 
fortress by a volley of stones coming 
through a window in line with which 
he was sitting. 



What was the cause of the murderous 
feeling among the people of this settle- 
ment toward their Squire? It is not 
far to seek. As has been said before 
both the proprietors of Rangeley 
wished to make money — with this 
difference: one sought to make money 
by spending it the other by gathering 
it in. 

Nothing was too small to escape 
Burnham's net. The story is still told 
of a woman sick in bed with child and 
of Burnham going in and having the 
feather-bed on which she lay dragged 
out from underneath her to satisfy a 
debt which her husband owed him. 

Upon another occasion, a debt being 
overdue, Squire Burnham had one half 
the roof of the log house in which the 
debtor lived sawn off and removed' 
This was in the month of March, and 
in the month of March it is yet winter 
in Rangeley. 

In still another case, the debt being 
perhaps of a more serious nature, the 
Squire was going to have the man sent 
to prison. The latter, unable to pay, 
pleaded the poverty that would fall 
upon his family, should he be taken 
away, but Burnham was inexorable. 
Finally, the man proposed a prison of 
his own. He would agree to stay in 
his own cellar for four months, promis- 
ing never to come out of it in all that 
time if it might be that he could still 
continue his work and so support his 
family. To this Burnham assented. 
The man kept his word and did not 
appear above ground until the four 
months were up. Is it possible to 
imagine with what joy the debtor saw 
the light of day once more? For a 
Rangeley cellar is not an agreeable 
abiding place even in summer, and in 
winter — ! Burnham, coming upon 
him unexpectedly, claimed that due 
notice of the man's enlargement from 
his self-imposed dungeon had not been 
given him, pronounced a sentence of 
another four months and forced the 
man to carry it out. 

It is not known whether it was in 
consequence of this last inhumanity, or 
of some one not recorded, or whether 
it was simply a result of the general de- 

testation in which the man was held 
that this next thing was sprung upon 
him. He was driving along in his gig 
out of sight or sound of any habitation 
when it was borne in upon him that 
something was not as it should be. 
He stopped the horse, got out and ex- 
amined the gig. Upon lifting the 
cover of the box built under its seat, he 
found a lighted slowmatch and a 
quantity of powder sufficient to have 
destroyed every vestige of himself and 
his equipage. 

Upon another day he heard that 
some men were cutting timber upon a 
certain lot of his land. This was one 
of the things that haunted him — the 
knowledge that in his big township, 
his trees were constantly being felled 
by his fellow townsmen and that owing 
to the impossibility of his being in all 
places at once this state of affairs was 
likely to continue. However, upon 
this occasion he came upon them red- 
handed. He rode in among them, a 
commanding figure on horseback, and 
ordered them to desist, at the same 
time threatening them with the utmost 
rigors of the law. Thereupon they 
dragged him from his horse, and one of 
them, a powerful fellow named Hun- 
toon, took a young tree and admin- 
istered such a flogging that it was little 
short of a miracle that the old Squire 
survived it. In less than a week, how- 
ever, he had ridden to Farmington, 
sworn out a warrant against them and 
a short time afterward Huntoon and 
his abettors found themselves arraigned 
in the court house of that place on a 
serious charge of assault. Burnham, 
however, had no witnesses. The men 
hung together and declared that in- 
stead of assaulting him he was the 
aggressor. In vain Burnham ex- 
hibited his marred and wounded body. 
The men were discharged and Burn- 
ham was reprimanded by the Judge. 
How much his own reputation had to 
do with this decision cannot with 
certainty be known, but as Uncle 
Titus, still bright and merry in spite 
of his ninety years, says, "Burnham 
got into a good many law scrapes. 
He lawed it a good deal." 



Besides the Rangeley township, a 
tanyard at Meredith, and a considerable 
property in the town of his birth, Dan 
Burnham owned, at one time, the 
whole White Mountains Range. A 
tale is told concerning the sale of this 
now almost national property which 
shows up the character of this man in 
the part of debtor and also shows at 
the same time how men on the same 
business footing as himself regarded him. 

The sale took place in his own State 
of New Hampshire in a private house 
and was presided over by Judge Dale. 
Burnham sat at one end of the table, 
the prospective buyer at the other. As 
the moment approached for the con- 
summation of the sale, the buyer of the 
White Mountain Range stretched forth 
his hand toward the middle of the table, 
with the money in it. At the same 
time he also stretched out his other 
hand to meet Burnham's own, nor did 
he let go the money with the one hand 
until he held the title deeds safe in his 

This moment of cautious intensity 
was suddenly broken in upon in a most 
dramatic manner. The hands of the 
two men had met and parted and the 
money was at last in Burnham's posses- 
sion. Ere he could draw himself back 
to an upright position and while the 
money was yet exposed in his hand 
upon the table, the curtains, which 
shaded the window behind him, parted; 
a figure came forth, a hand fell upon 
Burnham's wrist while a voice for- 
bade him to draw the money to him- 
self. The hand was not so powerful 
as Burnham's own, nevertheless he 
obeyed its pressure, for it belonged to 
the sheriff of the county. The Squire 
had long owed a considerable sum of 
money in New Hampshire which his 
creditors had been unable to obtain 
and the latter in some way getting 
wind of the transaction took this means 
of obtaining their just dues. 

Besides trafficking in land Burnham 
(he is rarely given his title by the in- 
habitants of Rangeley, in strong con- 
tradistinction to his predecessor) had 
another occupation and indeed this 
may be said to have been his principal 

one, for to it he devoted the major 
portion of his time. This was trading 
in colts and cattle. He would breed 
or buy them in New Hampshire and 
thence, with the help of a man or two, 
drive them to Rangeley, he riding on 
horseback all the way. Here, in the 
wide, free pastures of his own town- 
ship, they were raised and sent to 
Brighton, Massachusetts. The latter 
journey took about a week on the road 
the drovers dickering, swapping and 
trading along the way. 

However careful and exact Burn- 
ham was about collecting his own debts 
— ever to the full extent of the law, 
his numerous law suits did tend to im- 
poverish him. There came a time 
when he got into serious difficulty. 
To save the remainder of his property 
he took the poor debtor's oath, in the 
meantime deeding Rangeley to his 
brother. His oath did not save him, 
however, and he was put in Portland 
gaol. Here he stayed eleven years, 
steadfastly asseverating all the while 
that he had no property. 

There are two stories told in regard 
to Burnham's final loss of Rangeley. 
One is that, his brother dying while 
Burnham was still in prison, the deed 
came into the possession of his brother's 
heirs. They, knowing nothing of the 
understanding between the two men, 
sold the Township of Rangeley to 
others. The second story is that after 
Burnham was imprisoned, no taxes 
were paid on this vast estate. As he 
vehemently disclaimed all interest in 
Rangeley, several men began to pay 
the taxes. After a number of years of 
these payments, these men became 
possessed of the township, according 
to the Maine law in such matters. 
Thus when Burnham emerged from 
his long term in prison, he found what 
he had sworn to was very nearly true — 
he had no property. 

He came back to Rangeley an old, 
old man. But he had still a strong 
vitality of body and with an equally 
strong vitality of spirit he started life 

The first stage route was then in 
operation, being owned by Mr. Richard 



Kimball, now an old man yet living in 
Rangeley. Even in the winter, ac- 
cording to the latter, Burnham "drove 
and carried mail, did a little trucking 
on the road, arrants, etc." 

When it was time for the stage to 
start (from what is now the heart of 
the village) Burnham started whether 
his passengers were present or not. 
There was none of that easy and kindly 
waiting, that accommodating spirit so 
habitual in country towns, to be found 
when Burnham drove the stage. What- 
ever his past reputation had been, he 
was honest and trusty as a stage driver 
and his word could always be de- 
pended upon. So said Mr. Kimball, 
adding, "He was a great talker." 

One reminiscence of his stage driv- 
ing days still lingers in Rangeley. 
Upon one trip, one of his passengers, 
a woman, was carrying a parasol. 
Becoming aware that it had disap- 
peared, she searched vainly for it and 
finally asked Burnham if he had seen 
it. " It fell out a couple of miles back," 
was the reply. "Why didn't you tell 
me?" came the indignant query. "I 
ain't paid to lock after passenger's 
parasols," was the truly Burnham- 
esque answer. 

Out of the wreck of his fortunes, 
Burnham had contrived to keep what, 
even to this day, is known as "The 
Burnham Pasture." Here he still 
carried on his former occupation — 
the raising of cattle and horses. "He 
sold 'em round here when he got old," 
said Mr. Kimball. " Sometimes people 
would come here from cities to get 
'em even from Boston." 

The onetime Squire used to go back 
and forth from his lodging in the village 
to this pasture nearly every day. It 
was a considerable distance for a man 
of his age to walk being over two miles 
distant from his lodging, back of what 
is now Sedgeley Ross's farm. Just 
here Mr. Kimball reiterated, "He 
changed his looks terribly. He used 
to go like a gentleman on horseback, 
rigged up, but before he died he didn't 
have hardly anything to wear. 

''Whenever he went to his pasture 
he was always particular to take his 

shoes and stockings off and wash his 
feet when he corn': to a nice brook, 
folks used to think that was why he 
lived so long, because he washed his 

All things come to an end and so at 
last did Burnham's life. When it was 
found thai he had left nothing, the 
Town of Rangeley bestirred itself to 
avoid the expense of burying him. 
His body was sent back to tin 
New Hampshire whence he had come 
and it was then that the long unslaked 
curiosity of Rangeley in regard I 
age was satisfied. The old Squire had 
nearly attained his hundredth birth- 

"All he cared for was his lumber, his 
lands and his cattle," said Mr. Kim- 
ball, in a general summing up of Burn- 
ham's life and character. 'lb- give 
sixty thousand dollars for this t 
ship. He thought it was going ' 
valuable and he thought riL r ht, but it 
took too long." 

Since the days of its founder and its 
quasi-feudal squires, Rj has 

passed through several stages. For a 
lnu'j time it was described a 
man's paradise/ 1 Althoug title 

may still be justly claimed, it will not 
be long ere "This too will pass aw 

The shores of Rangelej Lake, itself, 
have during the last few years wit- 
nessed a prodigious advent of "sum- 
mer people." True to its traditions, 
the inhabitants call them all, be I 
dignified landowners, frivolous pleas- 
ure seekers, artists or musicians, 
"sportin' people," or, with that love 
for conciseness and abbreviation that 
distinguishes the American, " - 

Ere another generation has arisen 
they will be the predominant * 
around Rangeley Lake at least. The 
guide in his canoe will have vanished 
and the motor boat will have taken his 
place. The railroad is penetrating 
farther and farther and the honk of the 
automobile is heard in the land. A 
town improvement society has sprung 
up and an attactive stone library has 
been built, all through the efforts of 
these same summer people. The 
servant problem is becoming acute. 



Can more evidence of advancing civi- 
lization be offered ? 

Nothing, however, can take from the 
beauty of this wonderful region of 
clouds, lakes and mountains unless it 
experience a veritable invasion of 
Goths and Vandals. Fortunately the 

people owning the camps (everything 
from a log cabin to a palace is called a 
camp) around the shores of this beauti- 
ful lake have its interests at heart and 
it will doubtless develop in a manner 
in harmony with Nature and to the 
satisfaction of her admirers. 

The Republican Party in 



THE collapse of the Rebellion 
and the dispersion of the 
Confederate armies brought 
about a condition of public 
affairs to be dealt with by the general 
government which had not been antici- 
pated by those who had framed our 
Constitution. True, provision had been 
made for the punishment of traitors, 
but such provision was for individual 
cases, and not for the acts of the 
several states, as such. Grave ques- 
tions as to the status of the former 
members of the Union, who had sought 
to secede, agitated the whole country, 
and were thoroughly discussed in 
Congress and by the loyal men of the 
loyal states. It is not my purpose to 
go into them now. Suffice it to say 
that the conduct of the leaders of 
Southern opinion, and the legislatures 
of certain of the Southern states, 
satisfied the country that it was not 
best to entrust to those so lately in 
arms against the Union, powers which 
might be used to its detriment, and 
to the nullification of the great work 
which the suppression of the armed 
rebellion was believed to have ac- 

There were indeed men of promi- 
nence in the Republican party who 
thought that the South might with 
safety be trusted to loyally accept the 
situation without being subjected to 
restrictive legislation. Those men 
would not bestow the ballot upon the 

negroes as a whole; rather would they 
limit it to their former masters, or to 
such of them as might show a willing- 
ness to unite with the loyal element of 
the nation in an effort to remodel the 
new governments of the seceded states, 
on the basis of justice to the negro, 
and the security of his legal rights. 
But by far the greater majority of the 
Republicans felt that more than this 
was necessary, and that no state should 
be re-admitted to the Union until it 
was absolutely certain that the negro's 
emancipation should be fully recog- 
nized, his political and legal rights 
duly assured by the Constitution of 
each state, and legislation to that end 
enacted. In the latter class the Re- 
publicans of Massachusetts by a large 
majority were enrolled and foremost 
in its leadership. Of the former class, 
Governor Andrew in Massachusetts, 
was the most prominent member, few 
others of influence followed him, and 
his too early death prevented his 
taking an active part in promul- 
gating his views upon the stirring 
question of the reconstruction of the 
states lately in rebellion, and the 
equally disturbing proposition to se- 
cure to the black loyalists of the South 
their civil rights, and the right to the 
exercise of the elective franchise, 
through the new constitutions of the 
former seceding states, and by amend- 
ments to the National Constitution. 
Massachusetts during the prolonged 



struggle over these questions was, 
through the Republican party in the 
state, loyal to the genuine loyalists 
of the South, earnest in efforts to con- 
fer upon the race lately emancipated 
all the civil and legal rights of the 
whites and to maintain for it full 
equality before the law. Through its 
senators and representatives in Con- 
gress it led in the run of the new 
crusade. Its senior senator was the 
recognized leader in the Senate of 
those who insisted upon guarantees 
through legislation by which all loyal 
men, of whatever color, should be 
secured in the position of full citizen- 
ship and the exercise of its rights; and 
he it was who shaped the necessary 
enactments. The history of those 
days is, by reason of the prominent 
part taken in it by Massachusetts 
men, a part of the story of the Republi- 
can party of Massachusetts, and that 
a part of which the old Bay State 
has just reason to be proud. It 
should be carefully studied. 

At the election in 1865, Governor 
Andrew having declined to again be a 
candidate, Alexander H. Bullock of 
Worcester, for four years the speaker 
of the State House of Representatives, 
was chosen governor, and held the 
office by successive re-elections for 
three years. Since that time, with 
but few intervals the conduct of 
affairs in Massachusetts has been in 
the control of those elected by the 
Republican party, and in full accord 
with its policy, both national and 
state. The administrations of the vari- 
ous governors elected by the Republi- 
cans have been marked by high de- 
votion to the best interests of the Com- 
monwealth; no scandals have attached 
to their official actions, and all of them 
were men of high character, unques- 
tioned integrity, and wide experience 
in political and commercial matters, — 
such as eminently fitted them for the 
exalted position to which they were 
chosen as conservators and directors 
of the public weal. The various in- 
terests of the state prospered under 
their rule. Party harmony has been 
occasionally disturbed. In 1871 

Governor Claflin, who for three terms 
had filled that office, announced that he 
should not again be a candidate for 
re-election, and when the call for the 
nominating convention of the Re- 
publicans was issued in that year, it 
was generally understood that there 
would be a warm contest over the 
nomination of his successor. Several 
gentlemen, well known Republicans, 
men who had been prominent in the 
councils of the party, were candidates 
for the honors of a nomination. Alex- 
ander H. Rice and Harvey Jewell of 
Boston, George B. Loring of Salem, 
William B. Washburn of Greenfield, 
and Benjamin F. Butler were the 
most prominently mentioned. Public 
interest centered the most upon the 
last named, for he had for some years 
been largely in the public eye, had 
secured a large following of devoted 
supporters, and had also incurred the 
determined opposition of a still larger 
body of the party, among which was 
numbered the older and better trusted 
of the party's founders and leaders, 
whose confidence he had forfeited by 
his political vagaries and sometime 
inconsistencies. He had ever been 
a unique character; seldom in accord 
with the conventional ideas which con- 
trol theactionsof men inpubliclife:given 
to spectacular demonstrations which 
ran counter to public opinion, as gen- 
erally held, and apparently especially 
pleased when he seemed to have 
startled it. As a youth he had entered 
Waterville College, a Baptist institu- 
tion in Maine, in preparation for the 
Christian ministry, and was the beni- 
ficiary of the fund of the Baptist body 
set apart for the aid of young men who 
purposed to enter upon the ministerial 
office as Baptists. But he must while 
in college have discovered that he had 
no vocation for the sacred calling, for 
on his graduation he took up the study 
of law and began its practice in Lowell, 
where he soon became known as an 
active member of the bar. What a 
shiver would have gone through the 
infernal regions had Butler adhered 
to his youthful purpose and become a 
minister of the Calvinistic Baptist 



persuasion! What rejoicing there 
must have been in that kingdom 
when he turned aside and enrolled 
himself in the ranks of the legal fra- 
ternity! In politics he was a Demo- 
crat and in 1853 was elected to the lower 
branch of the Legislature. In 1860 
he was chosen a delegate from his 
home district to the National Demo- 
cratic Convention with instructions 
to vote for Stephen A. Douglas for the 
Presidential nomination. He, for 
some reason, saw fit to disregard those 
instructions, allied himself with the 
opponents of Douglas, voting many 
times for Jefferson Davis. At the 
election in that year he was the candi- 
date for governor on the anti-Douglas, 
pro-slavery Democratic ticket, and a 
supporter of the candidates of the pro- 
slavery wing of the democracy, 
Breckinridge and Lane. 

But when, in 1861, Fort Sumter was 
attacked and its garrison forced to 
evacuate the fortress, and President 
Lincoln had issued his call for troops 
to sustain the National Government, 
Butler was among the first of men of 
prominence in Massachustets to tender 
his services to the Union cause. He at 
once abandoned his law practice, 
which was then quite extensive, took 
command of a portion of the militia 
sent forward on the State's quota, — 
he was then a general officer of the 
state's militia forces, — led them into 
Maryland, and succeeded in opening 
a way for their progress to Washing- 
ton. His services in and about Balti- 
more are well known and were of im- 
mense benefit to the national authori- 
ties, and to the loyal men of Maryland. 
He doubtless contributed much to pre- 
vent Maryland from seceding. Presi- 
dent Lincoln made him a major- 
general of the United States Volun- 
teers and he was sent to Fortress 
Munroe with a high command. As 
an officer in the army he had a career of 
a checkered nature, but through it all 
he never distrusted his own capacity — 
he was always quite sure of himself. 
While as a leader of men in the field 
he was seldom a success, he was as a 
Department Commander, remarkably 

efficient in maintaining order and con- 
trolling unruly and traitorous elements 
— in him the plug-uglies of Baltimore, 
the secessionists of New Orleans and 
the Democratic roughs of New York 
City were compelled to recognize their 

Butler had made a most active pre- 
liminary campaign to secure a majority 
of the delegates to the Convention of 
1871. His following was a motley one, 
embracing many who did not believe 
in him and yet from the force of cir- 
cumstances dared not oppose him, for 
he had a large influence in the control 
of the patronage, and political in- 
fluence which he could employ for or 
against his freinds, or his foes. His 
peculiar personality and his political 
audacity won him a large support. 

The Republican state convention 
met; Butler had publicly notified his 
following to be on hand "with three 
days' rations" evidently thinking 
to overawe his opponents by proclaim- 
ing that the contest would be a pro- 
longed one, and yet he was at the same 
time claiming that he had, beyond all 
doubt, a large majority of the delegates- 
elect. George F. Hoar, afterward 
United States Senator, was chosen as 
the convention's President, and about 
noon the active work of the day began. 
To an intelligent observer it was soon 
apparent that Butler's assured ma- 
jority was not in evidence. The 
gentleman chosen to preside was his 
most determined opponent, and every 
move made in the General's interest 
failed of success. There were quite a 
number of contests over seats in the 
Convention, and it was nearly mid- 
night before they were settled. When 
the time came to take the vote, several 
names were presented, but on the final 
ballot William B. Washburn was nomi- 
nated. During one of his campaigns 
Butler had said of himself and his can- 
didacy, " I am not a coy young maiden, 
afraid to make my wishes known. I 
am like a widow who knows what she 
wants and is ready to say so." This 
was seized upon and made the subject 
of a taking cartoon, in which the 
General was depicted wearing a widow's 



weeds, and smilingly smirking. For a 
long time he was known as "The 
Widow Butler." Mr. Washburn, who 
had been a member of Congress, was 
nominated and elected. General Butler 
kept his seat in Congress. In 1872, 
the national Republican convention 
re-nominated General Grant for the 
presidency and placed Henry Wilson 
of Massachusetts on its ticket as the 
vice-presidential candidate. In this 
year occurred a schism in the Republi- 
can party, which took from its ranks 
in Massachusetts a small number of 
men who had been for years among its 
most honored members. Senator 
Sumner had found himself unable to 
support in all things the policy of 
President Grant and those Republican 
leaders in sympathy with the admin- 
istration; he placed himself openly in 
opposition and on the floor of the 
Senate denounced the plans to which 
the President was committed and was 
most personal in his remarks upon that 
official. This caused a break in his 
relations to the Republican organiza- 
tion, which was by a large majority 
favorable to the President's policy; he 
was by the votes of his fellow-senators 
removed from his place as chairman of 
the Committee on Foreign Affairs, 
which he had held for some years, — his 
personal friends in high official station 
were dismissed from the public service 
and he found himself outside the party 
he had so long and so honorably served. 
Francis W. Bird, a long-time friend and 
admirer of the Senator, incensed at the 
treatment bestowed upon his leader, 
organized the men of his school who 
felt as he did about the Senator, joined 
with them in the nomination of Horace 
Greeley of the New York Tribune 
in opposition to President Grant, and 
actively labored for Grant's defeat. 
Those who first nominated Mr. Greeley 
took the name of "The Liberal Re- 
publican Party." Mr. Greeley was also 
later the recipient in that campaign 
of the nomination of the Democracy. 
Mr. Bird had been a power in Massa- 
chusetts; believed in and loved by his 
party associates, a man of unbending 
integrity. When he departed it was 

with the regrets of his old companions 
who respected his motives even while 
disapproving his action. He never 
returned to the Republican fold, though 
the door was long open for him. 

The nomination of Horace Greeley 
was a peculiar one; he had exhibited 
no especial fitness as a statesman, and 
though a rigorous editorial writer for 
his own paper his editorial career had 
been vacillating. His attitude toward 
the administration of President Lin- 
coln had been often unfriendly and his 
characteristic vagaries had made him 
the object of attack by the humorists 
of the country. There was outside 
his personal following no disposition 
to take him seriously. It was asserted 
at the time that his nomination was 
brought about to advance the political 
fortunes of a certain faction of the 
Republican party in New York, which 
felt that it had not been properly 
recognized by President Grant in the 
distribution of the federal offices and 
was otherwise disgruntled. As in 1848 
dissatisfied New York politicians se- 
cured the presidential nomination by 
the Free Soil party for Van Buren for 
their own selfish purposes, so in 1872 
other New York men hoped by the 
nomination of Greeley to secure place 
and profit for themselves; such at 
least was the belief of many shrewd 
political observers. Although Greeley 
was endorsed by and made the nomi- 
nee of the Democratic party, a party 
of which he had been a most bitter 
opponent, saying of it, as was reported, 
among other things, "that while even- 
Democrat is not a horse thief even- 
horse thief is a Democrat," and other 
equally complimentary remarks, yet 
he was most ingloriously defeated and 
Massachusetts gave an ovenvhelmingly 
vote for Grant and Wilson and the 
Republican state ticket. The Liberal 
Republicans ran a state ticket also in 
this commonwealth, but it got but 
few votes comparatively. 

In 1873 General Butler again at- 
tempted to secure for himself the 
nomination as governor by the Re- 
publican state convention. Again he 
made an active campaign for dele- 



gates, and again he was defeated, and 
in 1874 he lost his seat in Congress, 
being defeated by Charles P. Thomp- 
son of Gloucester. 

He was, however, but one of several 
Republican candidates for Congress 
in Massachusetts who failed of an 
election, owing to complications grow- 
ing out of the so-called Prohibitory 
Liquor Law, a law which once had the 
support of a large majority of the 
people of the state, but which had at 
this time lost much of its former popu- 
larity owing to the peculiar circum- 
stances connected with its enforce- 
ment or lack of enforcement. There 
was now in existence a body of men, 
especially created to enforce the Pro- 
hibitory Law — popularly called "the 
State Constabulary" — and detailed 
for duty in the several counties. Be- 
fore a great while it was claimed that 
these officers were falling into corrupt 
practices, accepting bribes from liquor- 
dealers and others, and indulging in 
what is now known as "grafting." 

In 1874 an effort was made to 
abolish the state constabulary, by re- 
pealing the act under which they were 
appointed, Governor Washburn had, 
in the early part of the year, been 
chosen United States senator to fill 
the unexpired term of Charles Sumner, 
who died March 11, 1874. It was 
asserted by the liquor interests that 
acting Governor Talbot had given 
them to understand that if the Legis- 
lature should not vote to repeal the state 
constabulary act he would approve 
the bill. The repealing act passed, 
the acting governor vetoed it. The 
so-called liberal or liquor interest was 
furious, they organized their forces 
throughout the state against Mr. 
Talbot and in favor of William Gaston, 
the Democratic candidate. Talbot 
was defeated, and Gaston elected. 
One effect of the agitation was to keep 
from the polls on election day a very 
large body of Republicans, whose votes 
were lost to all the party candidates. 
This resulted in the defeat of several 
candidates who ran for Congress as 
Republicans, and the election also of 
a legislature opposed to "Prohibition" 

and which repealed the prohibitory law. 
The next election (1875) Governor 
Gaston was defeated for re-election by 
the Hon. Alexander H. Rice of Boston, 
who was not in sympathy with the 
doctrine of prohibition. 

During the administration of Gov- 
ernor John D. Long, General Butler, 
who had in the meantime found his 
way back into the Democratic party, 
twice ran for the office of governor 
on a Democratic ticket. His tactics 
were characteristic. The Democratic 
managers were opposed to him. They 
had hired the hall in which the con- 
vention was to be held. Apprehen- 
ding that the Butler men would get 
possession of it before the regularly 
elected delegates could assemble, the 
announcement was made that the hall 
would not be opened at the usual time, 
and it was kept closed. Early, how- 
ever, on the convention morning the 
Butler men secured ladders, entered 
by the upper windows, took possession 
of the hall, and the leaders of the 
Democracy, when they appeared, found 
themselves out-voted by a motley 
throng of delegates and non-delegates, 
who nominated General Butler as the 
regular candidate of the party for 
governor. In this and his subsequent 
campaigns he had the support of a 
large personal following, nominally 
Republicans. He was unsuccessful in 
his contest. The Republican candi- 
date was elected; a large number of 
old line Democrats refusing to vote 
for Butler. He tried it again the next 
year and was again defeated. It 
seemed as though he was finally 
quelched politically; he, however, was 
of a different opinion. The Phoenix 
of Massachusetts politics, he was 
always arising from the ashes of his 
own political grave, making the most 
startling reappearances after what 
seemed to be his final exits. He 
blithely ignored all pretence of consis- 
tency. Repudiated as a Republican, 
he assumed the role of an Independent, 
only to drop that next year for his 
debut as a Democrat of Independent 
tendencies and finally as a full-fledged 
Democrat of long standing — outside 



the party. In 1882 he again sought 
the Democratic nomination as a Demo- 
crat in good and regular standing, 
twice endorsed by a Democratic 

The Democratic Anti-Butler ele- 
ment, which had by this time been 
worried into submission, consented to 
his nomination and supported him at the 
polls. He was elected, defeating the 
Hon. Robert R. Bishop, a most esti- 
mable citizen whom the Republicans 
had chosen as their leader. And now 
Butler had made a most important ad- 
vance, as he considered it, toward the 
goal of his ambition, the presidency 
of the United States. He had once 
announced that no man could be 
elected to the presidency who did not 
have his state behind him. What 
better proof could there be of a can- 
didate's local standing than to be chief 
magistrate of his state? If he as a 
Democrat could be elected governor 
of the Republican Commonwealth 
of Massachusetts it was strong proof 
of his ability. Unfortunately for him, 
his administration, so far from doing 
him or the state honor, was more than 
a failure, it was a disgrace to both. 
He had been elected by the votes of 
those who 4 ' wanted to see what the old 
man would do"; they saw. One year 
of the show was sufficient. At the end 
of the year he was retired, and George 
D. Robinson succeeded him. 

During Governor Robinson's ad- 
ministration a change was made in the 
police commission of the city of 
Boston, which had for several years 
been appointed by the mayor of that 
city; but which was now, by an act of 
the Legislature, made a state commis- 
sion and the three members composing 
it were appointed by the governor. 
The morale of the police was much 
elevated thereby. The Republicans 
continued in control of the state ad- 
ministration until 1891. The laws 
enacted by the various Legislatures of 
Massachusetts have on the whole 
proved beneficial to the people and 
creditable to the state. The proper 
demands of labor have been met and 
the interests of the employer conserved. 

Radical schemes of legislation have 
found but little favor. In the creation 
of and dealings with corporations 
proper care has been taken to keep 
them under control; safe-guarding the 
interests of those who should invest in 
their bonds and stock. Provisions of 
law render it difficult to here organize 
corporations for exploiting "wild-cat 
investments" or "get-rich-quick con- 
cerns." Notably has it abstained 
from inviting the formation under the 
laws of the Commonwealth of bodies- 
corporate through "easy" legislation. 
While it has not been possible in every 
case to avoid mistakes, those that have 
been made have not resulted in serious 

The educational interests of the 
public have been fostered; the health 
of the several communities has had 
careful supervision; the unfortunate 
cared for and crime been rigorously 
prosecuted. While there have been 
charges of venality on the part of 
legislators, few of the Republican mem- 
bers have been in the list of those im- 
pugned. The Judiciary has been care- 
fully chosen from the members of the 
legal profession and as few mistakes 
made in the choosing as fall to the lot 
of human judgment. Its representa- 
tives in the national councils, chosen 
as Republicans, have taken high rank 
among their fellows, and in intellectual 
attainments, have measured well up to 
the highest standards. Charles Sum- 
ner, Henry Wilson, George S. Bout- 
well, William B. Washburn, Henry L. 
Davies, George F. Hoar, Henry Cabot 
Lodge and W. Murray Crane have as 
Republicans occupied seats in the 
Senate of the nation and well main- 
tained the reputation of "The Old 
Bay State." In the lower branch of 
Congress the number of its Republican 
membership who have fallen short of a 
high standard is very few. 

On national questions the Republi- 
can party in Massachusetts has, as a 
party, always stood by sound economic 
principles and in support of those 
doctrines on which is believed to rest 
the material well-being of the nation. 

In 1860 the Republican National 



Convention, which nominated Abra- 
ham Lincoln, inserted as the twelfth 
declaration in its platform of princi- 
ples the following: "That while provid- 
ing revenue for the support of the 
General Government by duties upon 
imports, sound policy requires such 
adjustment of those imports as to en- 
courage the development of the indus- 
trial interests of the whole country; 
and we commend that policy of 
national exchanges which secures to 
working-men liberal wages; to agri- 
culture remunerating prices; to me- 
chanics and manufacturers an ade- 
quate reward for their skill, labor and 
enterprise, and to the nation com- 
mercial prosperity and independence." 
To this doctrine the Republicans of 
Massachusetts have been, as a party, 
firmly wedded. Some members of 
the party have dissented from the 
protective principle, their numbers 
however, have been too few to have 
any influence. The doctrine of pro- 
tection to American industries has 
been affirmed over and over again 
by the party in its national conven- 
tions and enforced by appropriate 
legislation. The Republicans of this 
state have in Congress and in conven- 
tions earnestly and intelligently sup- 
ported it. The Republican party in 
Massachusetts has always stood for a 
sound currency and for specie pay- 
ments. During the war when gold 
coin was at a high premium the state 
paid the interest and principal of its 
bonds in gold, although not obliged to 
do so. When after the war a move- 
ment was started to pay off the 
national debt in irredeemable paper 
notes it stood by this declaration of 
President Grant, "Let it be understood 
that no repudiator of one farthing of 
of our public debt will be trusted in 
public place," and in 1871 and 1873 
refused to nominate for governor the 
great repudiator and advocate of "fiat 
money," who sought that honor at its 
hands. In 1896 in 1900 and in 1908 
it overwhelmingly defeated at the 
elections in this state the great apostle 
of the financial heresy of "Sixteen to 

As already stated, the Republican 
party in Massachusetts had its in- 
ception in an aroused public conscience, 
and it may be well to consider the in- 
fluences which were potent in this 
connection and which have herein been 
rather lightly touched upon. First of 
these in point of time was the so- 
called abolition movement, of which 
a native of Massachusetts was the 
practical founder and for years the 
leading expounder. The practical 
work of the anti-slavery societies was 
also potent. 

William Lloyd Garrison, born in 
Newburyport, Mass., December 10, 
1805, had learned the printer's trade 
in his native town, and shortly after 
the completion of his apprenticeship 
became a newspaper publisher on his 
own account in different places. In 
1828 he established at Bennington, 
Vermont, The Journal of the Times, 
in which he advocated the abolition 
of slavery. About the years 1829 and 
1830 he w*as a partner with Benjamin 
Landy in the publication of an anti- 
slavery paper in Baltimore, Maryland 
called "The Genius of Universal 
Emancipation," in which he attacked 
the conduct of a man whose vessel was 
engaged in the domestic slave-trade 
and took from Baltimore to New 
Orleans a cargo of eighty slaves for the 
New Orleans market. Mr. Garrison 
for this was prosecuted for criminal 
libel in the Maryland courts, convicted 
and sentenced to pay a fine of fifty 
dollars; this sum he was toopoortopay, 
and was sent to j ail. John G. Whittier, 
the anti-slavery poet, interested him- 
self in the case, and .wrote to Henry 
Clay of Kentucky, who, although a 
slaveholder, had then anti-slavery 
sympathies, asking him to befriend 
Garrison. Clay took the matter up 
in a kindly spirit, but before he was 
ready to act Mr. Arthur Tappan of 
New York paid the fine and costs, thus 
freeing Mr. Garrison, who subsequently 
returned to Massachusetts and in 
January 1831 issued in Boston the 
first number of The Liberator in ad- 
vocacy of the principle of the "Im- 
mediate and unconditional Emancipa- 



tion" of all those held in slavery. 
The Liberator's motto was, "Our Coun- 
try is the world, our Countrymen are 
all Mankind" and in this spirit The 
Liberator was published until the last 
of December, 1865, when, slavery hav- 
ing been abolished throughout the 
Union, and his work, as Garrison be- 
lieved, accomplished, it was discon- 
tinued. The early office of The Lib- 
erator was a "small chamber, dark, 
unfurnitured and mean," the only 
domicile of Mr. Garrison and his asso- 
ciate, who " made their bed on the office 
floor, and lived for a year or more on 
such food as they were able to procure 
at a neighboring bakery." 

The first society in the nation for the 
immediate abolition of slavery was 
organized by Mr. Garrison and his 
associates. On November 13, 1831 
fifteen persons met in the office of 
Samuel E. Sewell, Esq., in State Street. 
Boston, to consider the desirability 
and prospects of such an association; 
various meetings, were held, and on 
the night of January sixth, in a small 
schoolroom under a colored church off 
Knap Street, now Joy Street, the final 
meeting was held and "The New Eng- 
land Anti-Slavery Society" formed. 
The signers of the Constitution, twelve 
in number, on that night were all white, 
of comparative social obscurity, poor 
in pocket and in political influence; 
in the estimation of their opponents, 
openly expressed, "nobodies." Their 
work was extended into every northern 
state; meetings were held in the princi- 
pal cities and towns, amid great dis- 
couragement and fierce opposition the 
message of the apostles of "Im- 
mediate Freedom for the Slave" was 
presented. Mobs broke up their 
gatherings; their speakers were as- 
saulted; their places of assembling 
wrecked. The moral effect of the 
Abolitionists movement was in keep- 
ing alive the opposition to slavery, 
stirring the conscience of the North; 
educating, as to the sins of slavery, 
those who subsequently united in 
political parties for its limitation and 
ultimate extinction. 

I have endeavored in this series of 

articles to tell in a somewhat informal 
way a part of the story of the Republi- 
can party in Massachusetts, writing 
largely from memory I may have 
fallen into inaccuracies, but I feel such 
are very few. I have written as one 
who is a Republican by inheritance 
and conviction. I recall the day in 
1854 when the first public steps were 
taken at Worcester to organize the 
party in Massachusetts and I have 
had a close knowledge of the party's 
workings since and have been honored 
with the friendship and confiden 
its trusted leaders. My father was a 
supporter of the Liberty party in 1*44: 
of the Free Soil party in 1848; in 1 - : 2 
he was one of fourteen (14) men who 
in the North End Ward of Boston 
voted for Hale and Julian the candi- 
dates of the Free Soil party — the days 
of discouragement. In 1865 he was 
one of four hundred, who in the same 
ward voted for Fremont and Da;. I 
his every vote on national elections 
was for the anti-slavery cadidate^. 

And now there has arisen for careful 
consideration the question, What is to 
be the future of the Republican party 
in this state and in the nation: 1^ 
1912 to be to it what 1852 was to the 
Whig party of that time: Is it not 
perilously near the condition in which 
the Whig party then was: The crisis 
which it now seemingly faces calls for 
the exercise of the highest order of 
constructive statesmanship, a states- 
manship which will disregard the 
clamors of party leaders, anxious onry 
to hold on to place and power, or so 
thoroughly enamored with their own 
theories that they must persist in hav- 
ing them adopted at all hazards, 
the stewardship of such leaders in the 
past must be justly audited. — a 
statesmanship, which, while consider- 
ing the numerical strength and just 
claims of those who lately went off 
from us — temporarily it is to be hoped 
— will not feel called upon to accept all 
that the Progressives assert they 
fought for, but will gladly recognize 
and adopt, as well it may, a very large 
proportion of them. The Republicans 
of the early days organized in support 



of a great moral idea, the abolition of 
human slavery in America; they fought 
the battles of God and humanity and 
conquered. The Progressives of the 
present day, the rank and file of them 
at least, believe that they are conten- 
ding for a moral idea equally great — 
" the conservation of human rights, and 
the abolition or amelioration of indus- 
trial slavery." 

The two parties ought to get to- 
gether; they have much in common, 
and their differences can be adjusted. 
Old line Republicans' and new Pro- 
gressives can and will, I firmly believe, 
find a common platform of principles. 

Adopting in part the language of 
another I may say, "I stood by the 

cradle of the Republican party, must 
I follow it to its grave?" I pray 
not most sincerely. But if the work 
of the Republican party is done, this 
grand fact remains, it has been well 
done. "The past at least is secure." 
But let us not anticipate the worst, 
rather would I, recalling the long list 
of those whose names adorn its annals, 
and in whose fame it shared, utter the 
fond prayer from an old man's heart. 
May it live on! 

" Live on, nor fear to breast the sea . 
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears 
Are all with thee — are all with thee." 

Music for Home Singing 

By Ethel Syford 

THERE are so many reasons for 
encouraging the home "lieder- 
kranz" that I feel no little 
enthusiasm for the music which 
I chance upon that is suitable for such 
use. I do not know of anything which 
is more conducive to good-fellowship 
in the home than is an hour or so of 
family song. To see mother, father, 
aunt and uncle and a half dozen young 
folks gathered around the piano and 
singing together is a goodly sight. It 
has all of the pleasure of a good game, 
in which the whole family are taking 
part, and a certain uplift and content- 
ment that almost no other family 
function can produce. The ones who 
are not "singers" get full as much 
pleasure out of it as any one. Singing 
together presupposes as well as pro- 
motes good feeling. For music — song — 
is feeling. To sing together means 
that at least for the time, the singers 
become one in mood. To sing to- 
gether means sympathy and it creates 
sympathy. It develops a love for 
melody and musical interest, and in 
many ways is a potent factor in the 
musical quality of a home and of a 

The songs that are the most practi- 
cal for such use must necessarily be 
those which have a comparatively 
simple direct melody, and ones which 
will lend themselves to what might 
be called collective rather than in- 
dividual interpretation. The most of 
the solo lyrics, — art songs, — whose 
subtilties are best interpreted by a 
single singer, are both too intricate 
and too distinctly a personal mood to 
be of any use for ensemble singing. 
Almost every art song — Schubert, etc. 
— is, in some way or other, the per- 
sonal cry of a single individual. That 
the voices of a half dozen people be 
lifted in singing together means that 
the song must be more catholic in idea 
and feeling, inclusive rather than ex- 
clusive in appeal, a more general 
sentiment. For these reasons sacred 
music lends itself admirably, in fact it 
is more suitable than any other music. 
The time worn hymns and home 
collections have been so thoroughly 
worn threadbare that I feel that a list 
of sacred songs and duets which have 
proved excellent for such use, is cer- 
tain to be of some helpfulness. 

"Rejoice, Ye Pure in Heart" and 



" Be Glad, O Ye Righteous, " by Bruno 
Huhn, are moods of joyful exultation 
which are so directly melodious and so 
full in harmony that they are thor- 
oughly satisfactory, as is also "Come 
Unto Me," by the same composer. 
The songs of Mary Turner Salter are 
always of unpretentious beauty and, 
owing to her own vocal ability, thor- 
oughly singable and gratefully so. 
"There is a Blessed Home" and "I 
Lay my Sins on Jesus" are among 
those best adapted for ensemble sing- 
ing. "The Earth is the Lord's" 
(Psalm xxiv), by Frank Lynes, is an 
outburst of fervor that is as full-toned 
as an old German choral. "A Song 
of Faith" and "O God of Truth," by 
J. Lamont Galbraith, are very eu- 
phonious as to melody and they have 
artistic and beautiful accompani- 
ments. They are among the most at- 
tractive songs for this use that I have 
found. Of beautiful melody but with 
simpler accompaniment is "Teach me, 
O Lord," by J. W. BischofT; while his 
"Open to me the Gates" is an andante 
maestoso mood, which is effective for 
solo work especially, though it adapts 
itself readily for ensemble singing. 
It has an accompaniment of really 
forceful support and beauty. Not 
quite so adaptable for several singers, 
but beautiful for solo work, are two 
songs by Alfred Wooler, "O Lord, 
Rebuke Me Not" and "Behold, God 
is Mighty." "Like as a Father" and 
"Cast Thy Burden upon the Lord," by 
A. W. Lansing, are excellent for either 
use. The melody in each is very 
tuneful and the accompaniments so 
rhythmic that they fairly compel the 
voices to enter into the song with 
spirit. Two offertory solos, — "To- 
day if ye will hear His Voice" and 
"Out of the Depths," by James H. 
Rogers, are also effective. "The Lord 
is loving unto every Man " (Psalm cxlv) 
and "Lead Me to Thee," by John E. 
West, are beautiful songs that are more 
than usually artistic. The accom- 
paniments, while not ornate or such as 
to distract the interest from the song 
melody, are attractive and invigora- 
ting to the melody. "Thine, O Lord, 

is the Greatness," by W. Franke- 
Harling, is more simple and sedate in 
character. This is also true of "Just 
as I Am, " by E. Cutter, Jr. 

"Day of Peace," by Eben H. Bailey, 
is tuneful and expressive with a com- 
paratively simple accompaniment, but 
one ol good support. The song is also 
published with violin obligato. "Thy 
Way, not Mine, Lord, by Thomas 
Adams, is of spirited fervor and yet of 
unpretentious style in its treatment. 
"Holiest, Breathe an Evening Bless- 
ing," by Oliver King, has an extremely 
simple melody with a more ornate 
accompaniment, harp-like in character 
and very attractive. " Like As The 
Hart," by John A. West, has a simple 
accompaniment while the song part 
is more subtle in expressiveness. This 
song is always very successful. 

Some others which are especially 
compensating and which lend them- 
selves very well for ensemble singing 
are, "Lead us, Heavenly Father, lead 
us," by Bruce Steane; "When I survey 
the Wondrous Cross," by Edgar Pen- 
man; "Out of the Depth label 
H. McDuffee; "Just for To-day." by 
Paul Ambrose, which is of especial 
beauty and very well known. "Just 
for To-night," by R. S. Ambi 
"Submission," by Ralph L. Baldwin; 
"Peace I leave with You " and "Ho, 
Every One that Thirsteth, " by Charles 
E. Tinney. 

All of the songs mentioned above 
are published for soprano or tenor 
and for alto or baritone. 

Duets are very interesting for such 
use when there are enough voices to 
divide the parts. The duets men- 
tioned below are arranged for soprano 
and tenor or for alto and baritone. 
Bruno Huhn has written a number 
which are of beauty and the parts are 
well written. Two very good ones by 
him are "There is a Blessed Home" 
and "Arise, O Lord God." "I Love 
the Lord," by John A. West, is sim- 
ple but full in harmony. The parts 
alternate in solo and then enter as duet. 
Of two duets by E. W. Hascom: "The 
Homeland" and "How Gentle God's 
Commands," the first mentioned is 



more simple in treatment. Either one 
is euphonious and spirited in its ex- 
pression. One of the best I have 
found is " Still, Still with Thee," by A. 
W. Lansing. The parts enter alter- 
nately and then in a beautiful duet, 
and the accompaniment is one that 
carries the parts well without being 

"Be Still, My Soul," by J. Lamont 
Galbraith, is of imposing dignity and is 
quite impressive in effect. The climax 
has a rolled chord accompaniment and 
the parts sing in unison at this point, 
making a very full-toned effect. 
"While the Earth Remaineth," by F. 
W. Peace, is simpler in style, but the 

parts are well written and the song is 
attractive. "Jesus, the very Thought 
of Thee," by John Hyatt Brewer, is 
somewhat similar in style, but more 
effective, perhaps, on the whole. 

I have not mentioned one song which 
cannot be of practical use either for 
ensemble home singing or for an un- 
pretentious amateur singer, — in other 
words each one is thoroughly practical 
and singable. However, by no means 
are these songs limited to this use. 
Many of them are of such beauty that 
experienced soloists have found them 
most excellent and successful material 
and highly artistic in their yielding 
to artistic interpretation. 


The Custom House, Salem 

a.<uxu*jv> or era phuiu. p»c^*'Tc_»- 

Grandmother's Cook Book 

By the New England 

BREAD making is not quite so 
thoroughly the fashion in these 
days of "ready-made" eat- 
ables as it was in the days of 
the chimney oven in the Colonial fire- 
place. However, time does not seem 
to have robbed bread of its right to be 
called the "staff of life" nor is the 
making of good bread any less an art. 
I presume that it was bread which 
was the cause of the invention of the 
first fireless cooker. In fact one of 
the very earliest ovens was one. The 
ancient Egyptians used a crock, sunk 
in the ground, in which a fire of con- 
siderable heat was built. After the 
crock was of sufficient heat the fire was 
removed and the dough was put in. 
The crock was then tightly closed and 
kept so until the bread was baked. 
Such ovens are still in use among many 
people of the Far East. Yes, the 
Egyptains were expert bread makers, 
and it could not have been so very 
different from our own, for they raised 
their bread-dough with yeast, we are 
told. But when it comes to the knead- 
ing of the dough, we have made some 
improvement over their methods, for 
do you not remember Herodotus re- 
marking, "They knead their dough 
with their feet, while their clay they 
knead with their hands" ? 
Of all the things to be made by the 

Magazine Cooking Club 

household cook, bread, — just plain 
good, old-fashioned bread, is much 
more of a test of ability than many of 
the more modern concoctions. The 
fashions in bread do not seem to 
change as the years go by. However, 
bread is rather more respectfully 
treated by a French or English cook 
than it is all too apt to be by an 
American one — I know many a 
family in which my lady burns great 
slices of bread if a day or so old, or at 
least throws them away. 

A French cook saves all of her stale 
bread. She cuts it into pieces about 
one inch square, and puts it in a pan 
in the oven to let it dry out and even 
become a trifle brown. She then 
crushes it with a rolling pin as fine as 
she can and runs it through a sieve. It 
is then ready for use and if kept free 
from moisture will keep for a long time. 
Salt and sugar bags washed and dried 
are good for keeping the crumbs in. 

Fried Croutons 

Use stale bread if you have it. 
Cut it into small pieces and fry in beef, 
mutton or pork fat. Use about two 
tablespoonfuls of fat to a handful of 
the bread pieces. Have the fat hot 
when you put in the bread and fry on a 
good fire. Do not fail to stir until 
the bread is brown or it will burn. 



Strain before serving. The croutons 
should be crisp and dry and they 
should be served principally with 
puree soups. 

An Omelet with Breadcrumbs 

One cupful of breadcrumbs, one 
tablespoonful of better, three eggs and 
one-half cup of milk. Scald the milk 
and pour it over the breadcrumbs and 
butter. Mix thoroughly and then add 
the well-beaten yolks of the eggs, salt, 
pepper and, if desired, small bits of 
chopped green pepper and some bits of 
chopped ham. Beat the whites of the 
eggs to a stiff froth and stir them in 
lightly. Pour the whole into an 
omelet pan which has been heated 
and which contains about one table- 
spoonful of melted butter. Let it 
cook until it sets and has become a 
light brown. 

A Delicious Pudding 

Whip one cupful of thick cream 
until stiff. Add the yolks of three eggs 
and a pinch of salt, three tablespoon- 
fuls of sugar, one teaspoonful of van- 
illa extract and then the whites of the 
-eggs after beating them to a stiff froth. 
Butter a mould or pudding dish and 
dust the bottom and sides with 
browned breadcrumbs. Now put a 
half inch layer of plain breadcrumbs 
in the bottom of the dish. On this 
add a layer of stewed or canned apri- 
cots or peaches. Next add a layer of 
beaten up mixture of eggs, cream, etc. 
Then add a layer of crumbs again and 
so on alternately until the mold is full. 
Bake for one half hour and serve with 
whipped cream, sweetened and flavored. 


One cupful of warm water, one 
cupful of sweet milk, yeast and sugar 
with flour enough to make a stiff batter; 
let the mixture rise over night and in 
"the morning add a cupful of sugar, a 

cupful of raisins or currants and knead 
well. Let rise until light and mould 
into buns. Rise again until very light 
and then bake. Use any spice de- 

Baked Eggs 

^Mix finely chopped ham and bread- 
crumbs, about half and half. Season 
with salt and pepper, and moisten with 
hot milk and a little melted butter. 

Use small patty pans and half fill 
them with the mixture, break an egg 
over the top of each and sprinkle with 
fine breadcrumbs and a very small 
bit of butter in the center of each. 
Bake and serve hot. 

Raisin Pie 

Take one cup of raisins, seeded, 
and boil in a little water to soften them. 
Let them cool and add the juice and 
grated yellow rind of one lemon, one 
cup of rolled crackers or fine bread- 
crumbs, one cup of sugar and one cup 
of water. Mix well and bake with 
upper and under crust. The mixture 
must be cold when poured into the pie- 
crust or it will toughen the crust. 

Prune Pie 

Stew the prunes until soft. Cool 
and remove the stones. Fill the pie- 
crust with them, sweeten and add a 
little cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. 
Bake with an upper and under crust. 

Corn Cake (Newburyport) 

One cup of milk, one cup of flour, 
one-half cup of cornmeal, one-half cup 
of sugar, one egg well beaten, one tea- 
spoonful of soda, two teaspoonfuls of 
cream of tartar and a little salt. Mix 
well. The cream of tartar must be 
mixed with a little of the dry flour. 
Bake in a moderate oven until done — ■ 
usually about twenty minutes. 




Our Hats Off to Colorado 

COLORADO comes to the from 
with a Citizen's Protective 
League tor the discourage- 
ment of vicious journalism. 
A part of its platform is thai. "Stories 
which, though having some basis 
of fact, might be hurtful to Colo- 
rado or to any city in Colorado, should 
not be exploited in a sensational man- 

"That malicious or unwarranted 
statements, injurious to Colorado or 
any city or citizen of Colorado or any 
legitimate industry of Colorado, should 
be barred from publication. " Good! 
The same platform calls for the keeping 
of divorce scandals and criminal news 
in the background, and for the elimi- 
nation of fake stories, indecent adver- 
tising, and other similar nuisances. 

The league will succeed. Why? 
Because it has struck the true note. 
Incidentally, it has pointed out to Xew 
England one of her greatest needs. 
New England men and women should 
rise in arms against the mass of de- 
traction, sensational self-exploitation 
by showy and specious attacks on all 
that is best and most constructive in 
industry and government, and hypo- 
critical "befriending of the people," 
by undermining industrial prosperity 
and the mutual confidence upon which 

based. Down with the 
detractors! Lei 

crit icism. I #et us have a j i 
amount of discontent and ilthy 

amount of kicking. All of us, Eng 

Dutch. French, Irish. Italia- . 
Armenian and just plain American, 
have inherited th< i t right 1 kick 
from our much 

It is included in what the new ad- 
ministration at Washington calls our 
"immemorial" custom S :' us 

did not know that there was any 
accretion of "immemorial" things 
America as yet. If there is. the right 
to kick is one of them. 

But kicking is one thing and de- 
liberate detraction another. The 
is a healthy sign of independence and 
progress. The second is an unhealthy 
sign oi sinister demagoguery. We are 
blessed with the earth's choicest - ". 
peopled by the world's best men 
and women. Constructive criticism, 
hearty co-operation, loyal support is 
called for. Rabid detraction is a 
crime. It indicates a weakenir.. 
moral fiber. It is a symptom oi de- 
generacy. Toleration should not be 
extended to it. It is time to drag the 
detractors into the light and let us all 
know who thev are and what they are. 

F. W.' B. 

^Beautiful £J\Cew England 


WHEN the ice has gone out, 
and the frost yielded to days 
of rain and sun, the rivers 
brim with a warm and nur- 
turing fulness, and the brooks bubble 
musically down the ravines still brown 
with the dead leaves of last year. This 
limpid and inviting water into which 
you wish to dip your hand is the first 
sign of real spring in New England. For 
as yet there are no buds. But you will 
not need to wait long. Almost while 
you are watching them the poplars and 
sycamores tassel out, and the swamp- 
maples redden. The stems of the willows 
take on their yellow-green succulence, 
and the iron rigidity of the sterner trees 
softens and yields. The elms become 
more pendulous. Their branchlets are 
full of sap that cannot long be prevented 
from bursting forth into buds and leaves. 
At no time of the year is tree life more 
interesting than in the stiff and awkward 
youthful grace of early spring. Hardened, 
indeed, is the mind that catches no mes- 
sage of hope and faith from the perpetual 
rejuvenation of these ancients of nature. 






A MINUTE-MAN of the Lord. 
heart, head, tongue and pen 
ever read}- for service; one- who 
lived his own mottoes, now 

heard round the world, "Look up and 
not down, Look forward and not Lack, 
Look out and not in, and Lend a hand," 
until he grew old doing errands of love. 
He pin a soul into the multiplication 
table by his social version of "Ten tin 
one is ten"; and by his story of 'The 
Man without a Country," taught patri- 
otism, not only to his own land, but to 
all lands. Through eighty-seven years 
his works and days made the Second 
Commandment the interpretation and 
illustration of the hirst. By doing the 
Will he became a brother of Jesus and 
prophet of the Church Universal. 



Edward E. II ■ 

What was his name? I do no1 know I 
I only know he heard God's voice and can 
Broughl all he loved acros I he i 
To live and work for God and me; 
Felled I he ungra< iou oak ; 
Wit h horrid toil 
Dragged from I Ik- -oil 
The- thrice-gnarled rod and stubborn i 
With plenty piled the haggard mountain- 
And when hi- work w a a ithoul i 

No blaring trumpet sounded out hi- fame; 
I le lived, he died : I do not know hi 

No fomi <>| bronze and no memori; 
Show me the place where he hi- mould* 
( )nly a cheerful cit) stands. 
Buill by hi- hardened hand-: 
( )nl\ trii i h< iusand h< nu , 
Where c\ er) da) 
The cheerful play 
Of love and h< >pe and; a 
These are his monuments and these al 
There is no form of bronze and no men 

And [? 

Is there some desert or -erne bound 
Where thou, great (\(k\ of angels, wilt 

Some oak for me to rend, some sod 
For me to break. 

Some handful of Thy corn to take. 
And scatter far atield. 
Till it in turn shall yield 
Its hundred-fold 
Of grains of Qfold, 
To feed the happy children ol my G 
Show me the desert, Father, or the sea. 
Is it thine enterprise: Great God. send me! 
And though the body lie where ocean rolls. 
Father, count me among all faithful souls. 



New England Magazine 

Vol. XLIX 

MAY, 1913 

Number III 

A Call to Sanity 

The dedication of a statue to Ed- 
ward Everett Hale is a national event. 
The location of this statue in the heart 
of Boston is appropriate. He spoke 
to all. From his well-beloved home 
he voiced the aspirations of all homes. 
We cannot look on the bronze features 
of the clear-sighted leader, once so 
familar to all New Englanders, with- 
out feeling the call to higher things. 
Dr. Hale was a prophet, but a sane 
prophet. He was far-sighted. His 
eyes were ever on the future; but he 
forgot not the achievements of the 
past and understood too well the price 
that had been paid for our civiliza- 
tion to lightly discard its institutions 
through mere discontent or love of 

The American people have revealed 
a profound dissatisfaction with present 
conditions and are calling for many 
changes. There is danger of a dis- 
regard of essentials and ill-considered 
and reckless innovation. 

One of the large questions before 
the nation to-day is that of woman 
suffrage. When the first institution 
for the higher education of women was 
founded, that possible development 
was clearly foreseen and deeply depre- 
cated by those who championed the 
woman's college. Every precaution 
was taken, every possible utterance 
made, every safe-guard erected that 

anxious fore-thought could suggest, 
that these institutions might educate 
girls for a "womanly career," But 
the inherent forces of the movement 
were greater than any individual's 
short-sighted intentions. The die was 
cast when the woman's college was 
founded. It will ultimately force a 
re-adjustment of the suffrage along 
lines that will remove any disability 
of women as women. 

But let us be sane about it. Our 
friends of the Woman's Suffrage move- 
ment appear to be attempting to thrash 
themselves into a state of excitement 
and belief that they are suffering a 
great wrong. Of course nothing of 
the kind is the case. They are a 
favored class in the legislation of all 
civilized communities. A few anti- 
quated laws growing out of the Eng- 
lish land-owning system are cited 
with tremendous show of feeling, but 
as a matter of fact, by and large, 
women are specially protected and 
privileged by English as well as by 
American law. Women have not a 
large place in public affairs only be- 
cause in all the generations they have 
never taken deep interest or a large 
place in public affairs. And they 
never will. The reason lies in nature. 
Just as it is foolish for the suffragettes 
to grow excited over their supposed 
wrongs, so is it foolish for the opposi- 




tion, whether male or female, to grow 
excited as over a terrible and disastrous 
revolution. For nothing of the kind 
will occur. The whole story may be 
told in a word. Women in the past 
have never sought a place in public 
affairs. Modern education and eco- 
nomic conditions have developed a 
class of women who do desire such 
participation. Their numbers are rela- 
tively few. The woman who marries 
happily rarely cares for or could be 
interested in politics. The other facts 
of her life are too dominant and 
insistent. She trusts her husband to 
defend her interests, just as she trusts 
him to chase a burglar from the door. 
Her private influence is enormous. 
Her active participation slight. This 
fact will never be altered. Women 
will be given the right to vote — 
simply because enough of them want 
it. They never had it because they 
never wanted it. Very few of them 
will have much to do with politics. 
There is nothing for women to grow 
excited over. There is nothing for 
men to fear. The determining facts 
are written in the inevitable constitu- 
tion of things. Some of the excited 

arguments of our friends of the fair 
sex sound as though they want to 
pass a law compelling men to bear 
children! Let us have more sanity. 
Militancy is folly. Women have lost 
an opportunity to show the world that 
they were capable of conducti: 
campaign with restraint and reason. 

The really serious question is, 1! 
shall the right to vote, for both men 
and women, be better guarded from 
the participation of the unworthy: 
That question is worth discu 1 
The other is not. For, really, their 
is nothing to discuss. The facts are 
all clear, and they will surely have the 
right to vote, simply because they 
appear to want it. Women have a 
right to hunt — as much right as men. 
Not many women do, or ever will. 

The true safeguard of the woman- 
liness of women, is the nature that they 
bear. Whatever is unwomanly about 
participation in politics, not many 
women will ever do. 

There is nothing to worry about, 
nothing to quarrel over, no cause for 
excitement, and very little room for 

F. W. B- 


Seems it so strange that I ask this of thee? 

And can thy will no gentleness afford, 
Though I seek naught but that thou taughtest me? 

I cannot take the musket and the sword 
And, banners waving, call upon the Lord 

Of battle-gage. Only mine eyes up-shine 
The soul of their desire, in sweet accord 

Seeking to share the duty that is thine, 
W T ho never yet have shirked the burden that was mine! 

The House on the Bluff 


THIS story is founded upon in- 
cidents which occurred ex- 
actly as I have related them. 
It owes nothing to imagina- 
tion. I have simply altered the names 
of town and people without seeking to 
change a feature of the narrative. 

High up on a bluff, overlooking 
the blue waters of Long Island Sound, 
stands a stately house. Its graceful 
towers and balconies are dulled and 
-dimmed now by the ruthless hand of 
time, but as a child I remember its 
gayly painted, heavily moulded case- 
ments, and iron balconies where the 
bright colored awnings fluttered, and 
at night where the lights flickered from 
its many windows, and shone way out 
to sea. Hospitality reigned there su- 
preme, and every evening sounds of 
mirth and strains of music floated over 
the moonlit waters. To my childish 
mind the place seemed like an en- 
chanted palace. 

Season after season passed. One by 
one the beautiful birds of fashion 
reared in this luxurious nest stretched 
their wings and flew away to brighten 
other homes. The commanding form 
of the aristocratic owner was gradu- 
ally bowed by the weight of years, to 
which he at last succumbed; and in a 
few days after his death the aged, but 
still graceful partner of his successful 
life, was sleeping by his side in the 
costly mausoleum which reared its 
stately walls on a sunny slope of the 
magnificent grounds. The great house 
was closed, and for years remained 
silent and tenantless, looming up like 
a bank of dark clouds against the sky, 
a familiar landmark even now to 
passengers on the boats making their 
daily trips to New York. After re- 
maining uninhabited for nearly twenty 
years, not a little excitement prevailed 
in the quiet New England village of 

Millport when it was known that the 
silent mansion was again occupied; 
but by whom was a mystery which 
even the most curious could not solve. 
The grim outside walls presented their 
wonted appearance, but heavy shades 
guarded the occupants from prying 
eyes. And who they were, their 
number, and even what their sex, 
afforded ample food for gossip for 
years after. 

One evening, about four weeks after 
their arrival, in a large upper chamber 
of this silent mansion were assembled 
four persons, differing widely in ap- 
pearance and in social grade. Every 
one was nervous and anxious, as if 
anticipating some important event; 
looking frequently at the dainty bronze 
clock, which musically ticked the 
passing hours, as it stood on the carved 
mantel over the huge open fireplace, 
where the blazing logs, resting on large 
brass andirons, gave a crimson glow 
to the room and its occupants. The 
furniture was large and luxurious. 
The massive bed stood in the middle 
of the room with its high foot and head 
board rising in an arch from which 
hung draperies of faded satin. The 
room had evidently been unchanged 
since the house was built; the walls 
were wainscoted and divided into 
artistic panels, the brilliant coloring 
of which had mellowed and mingled 
with the dark hue of the oak and the 
heavy carved ceiling. 

Of the four occupants of the room, 
the principal figure was a lady whose 
tall commanding form and elegance 
of manner bespoke an environment of 
wealth and luxury. Although nearly 
fifty years of age she was still beauti- 
ful. Her abundant dark hair, slightly 
flecked with gray, was combed back 
from a low broad forehead, while 
eyes of piercing blackness seemed to 




scintillate from beneath her delicately 
penciled eyebrows. Her features were 
strongly marked and expressive of 
intense passions and firm, unyielding 

The second occupant of the room 
was a tall, robust looking man with 
thin reddish-gray hair and a sinister, 
immovable countenance which told 
no tales. He was neatly clad, and 
his air and manner indicated the 
ambitious, but not very prosperous 
country physician. The third person 
was a stout, good-natured looking 
woman, who held the position of nurse. 

Beneath the heavy curtains which 
shaded the massive bed lay a fair, 
slender, fragile looking girl. She was 
barely eighteen years of age, and beau- 
tiful; with abundant golden hair and 
soft blue eyes, shaded by long curling 
lashes darker than her hair. 

Young as she was, the feeble cry 
of a tiny babe declared her to be a 
mother, and it was this event which 
cast such a shade of nervous anxiety 
over the occupants of the room. For 
no glad hearts rejoiced that this little 
babe had come to be a citizen of the 
world and seemed likely to live and 
thrive. The nurse took it in her arms, 
drew close to the fire, fondled tenderly 
its little limbs for a moment, and then, 
meeting the stern, forbidding look 
on the face of the imperious woman 
at her side, with a timid glance 
wrapped the small figure in warm, 
coarse garments, and proceeded to heat 
a few drops of liquid from a vase which 
stood on a small table near the fire. 
But before she could do so the strong, 
passionate looking woman approached, 
and, bending down, said, "The sea 
tells no tales. The doctor will see 
that the work is well done." She 
took the cup in one hand, and with the 
stern lines on her beautiful face grow- 
ing sterner, fed the baby with the 
liquid. The effect w r as almost im- 
mediately visible. With a long, quiv- 
ering sob the bright eyes closed and 
it sunk into a state of unconsciousness. 
Immediately a small wicker basket 
was brought and the babe placed in 
it, the cover tightly secured, and given 

into the charge of the physicia: 
proud, wicked woman whisp< 
"Remember, doctor; one swift pi . 
the reward is yours. " Bowing 
head significantly, the doctor lef • 
apartment, and as the deep ( 
clock on the stair cae tolled solemnly 
the hour of two, the cruel hearted wo- 
man muttered to herself, "The deed 
is done." 

The reward was large, but not in 
keeping with the doctor's ambition. 
As he closed the massive, gloomv- 
looking iron gates, which guarded the 
entrance to the grounds, looking down 
at the basket he said softly to himself, 
"Ah, Madame! Some day you and 
the country doctor will meet again. 
And you will find him, not like the 
boy in the fable, who killed the l 
which laid the goldei r I will 

keep my goose under my watchful 
eyes, and there will always be plenty 
of golden eggs in the nest which I will 
provide for my treasures." So in- 
stead of one swift plunge as di- 
rected by the cruel Madame, after 
descending the steep hill from Wales 
Point (where stood the gloomy man- 
sion) he approached the rickety 
bridge leading to the village. He 
placed the basket in a sheltered spot 
just at the end of the bridge, and con- 
cealed himself to await results. 

The winter morning was dawning 
cold and gray when the figure of a 
woman, enveloped in a large woolen 
shawl, crossed the bridge, and seeing 
a dark object lying in the footpath 
stopped, looked at it, and finding it 
to be a basket took it up, opened it 
and found the sleeping child. Hastily 
concealing it under her shawl she 
hurried along until she reached her 
humble cottage in a narrow street 
leading to the village. When the 
doctor saw that it was the kind-hearted 
Hetty Burrit who had taken up the 
basket, he followed her steathily and 
saw her take it to her humble home. 
Joining the crowd of curious and ex- 
cited villagers, that all day long 
thronged the small cottage to see the 
little castaway, he ascertained that 
Hetty would keep and care for it. 



Feeling satisfied with the manner in 
which affairs were shaping themselves, 
he determined never to lose sight of 
the child, and when the proper time 
came meant to extort more money 
from the haughty Madame, by threat- 
ening to expose matters. 

Hetty Burritwas a generous-hearted 
working woman, with a hungry brood 
of little ones of her own growing up 
around her. Her husband was a 
fisherman; a bright, quick fellow — 
though deaf and dumb — and every 
day could be seen sailing, into the har- 
bor with his little boat laden with 
the proceeds of his toil, which Hetty 
and her little ones helped him to dis- 
pose of to the well-to-do villagers 
who were always on the watch for 
Jonah Burrit's fish and clams. The 
kind-hearted couple determined to 
adopt the little forsaken waif, for 
whom there seemed to be no other 
place in the wide world, feeling sure 
that they would have to work no 
harder for this little stranger than they 
had before. The children named her 
Bertine, and as she grew older she 
endeared herself to the hearts of all 
who knew her. She was always with 
Hetty when she went out to dispose 
of Jonah's small cargoes, and was a 
picturesque figure still remembered 
in the village of Millport, with her 
sparkling blue eyes and the little 
straw hat placed jauntily on one side 
of her close curling golden hair. And 
many an extra penny her beautiful 
face gained for her from the pur- 
chasers of the fish which she sold from 
her little basket. 

At an early age she developed a 
marvelously sweet voice, which 
charmed Hetty, as none of her small 
olive branches could sing a note. She 
sent the child to William Crabtree, 
the village singing master, to whom the 
sweet childish voice became an in- 
spiration compared with the coarse 
tones of the village boys and girls. 
The courses of musical instruction 
ended in semi-annual concerts in the 
old town hall, never forgotten, I 
imagine, by those who took part in 
them. Bertine soon became the show 

pupil, and her sweet impersonations 
were always looked forward to with 
interest, and, strange to say, without 
jealousy by the rustic audiences. 

William Crabtree delighted in her, 
and all that he could do in his simple 
way to develop her extraordinary 
talent he did. One evening, at the 
close of one of these concerts, and at 
the end of an unusually interesting 
program in which Bertine had, in her 
inimitable manner, personated a little 
fairy flower queen, a gentleman, a 
stranger to every one there, who had 
occupied one of the front seats in the 
old hall, and had watched her closely, 
came forward and, taking her hand, 
said to her, "What is your name, little 
Rose Maiden?" 

"Bertine Burrit, isir," the little 
maid replied. 

"Come and tell me all about your 
floral palace, and where it is." 

"Oh, it is a fairy nest, hidden in the 
dark woods," said the child. "Where 
the birds always sing and the roses 
always bloom. Come with me some 
time and I will give you a soft cushion 
of gray lichen and green velvety 

"But I want you to come with me 
now. I want to make a charming 
little fairy of you and you shall sing 
every night. Come, what say you?" 

"Oh, sir, I should so like to be 
dressed like a little fairy and sing so 

"Well, you shall." 

Bertine clapped her hands and fairly 
danced in childish glee. The stranger 
looked at her delightedly, and de- 
termined that her talents should be 
developed to her advantage. He asked 
her where he could see her parents. 
Hetty was in the hall, and had been 
watching Bertine while she was talking 
to the tall stranger, and was not a 
little surprised when they approached 
her. The gentleman, bowing politely 
to Hetty, said, "I am manager of the 
'L' Theater in New York, and will fit 
your daughter for the stage, if you will 
permit it, free of expense. She will 
make her fortune with her voice." 

Hetty told him that she could give 



him no answer until she had consulted 
her husband, and that he could call 
at their home the next day for their 
decision. With this reply the stranger 
was satisfied, and Bertine returned 
home with Hetty. 

The next afternoon, true to his 
appointment, the stage manager called 
at the fisherman's humble home. The 
child, dancing with joy, met and told 
him that she could go with him and 
learn the pretty songs that he had 
told her about. 

Arrangements were soon completed 
for Hetty to take the child to New 
York twice a week, and in a short time 
Bertine had entered upon her lessons 
and impatiently longed for the time 
when with her pretty dresses she could 
warble her little songs and win bou- 
quets enough to make the humble 
home look like a flower garden the 
year round. 

Let us turn to the persons introduced 
at the commencement of the story, and 
explain their positions in regard to 
each other. The tall, proud woman 
was the oldest daughter of the aristo- 
cratic and wealthy owner of the lonely 
house on the bluff, and the mother of 
the fragile, beautiful girl who lay 
hovering between life and death. 
While traveling abroad with her father 
in her earliest youth she met a Russian 
of distinguished birth and colossal 
fortune, whom she fascinated by her 
dark imperious beauty. A very short 
courtship was followed by a brilliant 
wedding, and the young bride im- 
mediately entered upon the gay life 
which her husband's wealth made 
possible for her in Paris. A prouder 
woman never lived than Madame 
Kutaresoff. Her only daughter, Jean- 
nette (whose beauty was phenomenal), 
was early introduced into the fashion- 
able world. She was the admiration 
and envy of every one, and her proud 
mother gloried in the girl's loveliness. 
Among her many suitors was one 
whose name she never mentioned, for 
he was one of too humble birth and 
fortune for hope to even delude with 
false expectations. Paul Treval was 
the son of an obscure artist, and al- 

though the fire of genius glowed in his 
dark eyes, he could not aspire to the 
hand of the beautiful girl with a 
line of ancestors. 

As is frequently the case, the lovers 
found courage to confess their mutual 
love. And this was followed by a 
secret marriage. When the hau. 
Madame Kutaresoff discovered this 
her anger knew no bounds. In her 
desperation she thought for the first 
time in years of her childhood's home, 
deserted and silent on the lonely 
England bluff, and giving out that she 
intended traveling for a year or so, she, 
with great secrecy, made arrangements 
for her departure for America, ordered 
the house opened, and a portion of it 
made tenantable. She conveyed her 
daughter there, where she was kept a 
close prisoner until the birth of her 
infant, which was intrusted to the 
physician's care with strict orders for 
its destruction, to be followed by a 
fabulous reward. 

After a year Madame Kutaresoff and 
her beautiful daughter resumed their 
positions in the fashionable world, 
with the knowledge of this dark page 
in their lives buried in their own hearts. 

Paul Treval determined to win fame 
and fortune ere he claimed his wife. 
He went to Rome, where art is an in- 
spiration, working with the best masters 
untiringly. His soul was filled with 
such an intense, eager, ravenous desire 
for success, he demanded it, and with 
a strong, masterful, dominant will 
boldly stormed the frowning citadel of 
attainment and entered there — its 

In six years his magnificent studio 
was the favorite resort of the wealth, 
rank, and fashion of Europe. 

His name indelibly emblazoned on 
the walls of fame, and gilded with 
glory, he returned to Paris to claim 
his beautiful bride, who during all 
these sad years of separation had re- 
mained loyal to her love. No ob- 
jection could possibly be made this 
time to his claim by Madame Kutares- 
off, and in less than ten years after 
their secret marriage their union was 
publicly celebrated with great splendor. 



Although Jeannette was positively- 
assured that her baby died at its 
birth, a strange doubt filled her mind; 
and for a long time she would not give 
up the hope of one day finding it. 
But as the years passed on and brought 
no tidings, hope began to fade, and 
the birth of another daughter filled 
at last the aching void in the mother's 

Years passed very swiftly, and 
Bertine made her debut in a little 
fairy operetta written expressly for 
her. Truly, her dream was realized. 
A more beautiful childlike creature 
never trod, or, rather, floated across 
the boards of a theater. Hetty and 
Jonah were both there and gazed 
with delight upon her beauty. 

A general burst of admiration greeted 
her. The applause inspired the child 
and lent power and sweetness to her 
voice, and at the conclusion of her 
part the long-dreamed-of shower of 
bouquets fell at her feet. From that 
evening her success was assured. She 
devoted herself earnestly to study 
and rose rapidly in her profession. 

To Hetty and Jonah she was still 
the same loving child she had always 
been, and she never seemed happier 
than when surrounded by the faithful 
friends of her childhood. She would 
tell them of her triumphs in the great 
city, and many a substantial token 
of her generosity and gratitude made 
life easier for them as the years rolled 

b y- 

One evening while Bertine was 
singing at the L Theater, a party in a 
private box attracted her attention. 
She seemed drawn to them by an 
irresistible impulse, and turned again 
and again to look at them. The 
party consisted of three persons, — a 
gentlemen of striking appearance, a 
fair, gentle lady, and a child who 
stood in front of the box leaning over 
the railing. Her long golden hair 
rippled over her shoulders, and her 
beautiful violet eyes, shaded by dark 
lashes, were fixed upon the sweet 
singer as if she, herself, had noticed 
the strange resemblance between them; 
a resemblance which had attracted 

the attention of many in the audience. 
Opera-glasses were constantly leveled, 
first at one and then at the other. A 
responsive chord in the heart of Ber- 
tine was touched, she could not ex- 
plain why. But a strange volume of 
hope, love, and joy filled her, and 
poured forth in every tone of her 
voice, holding her audience spell- 
bound. It was a farewell, long re- 
membered, for she never sang in 
public again. 

At the conclusion of the evening 
Bertine was told that a gentleman 
wished to speak with her; and, glanc- 
ing at the card he had sent, she read 
" Paul Treval." She hastily responded 
to the call (which for some reason 
seemed imperative), and met the 
gentleman who had occupied the box 
with the lady and child. He said, 
as he approached her, "Pardon the 
intrusion, Miss Bertine, but this lady 
who is with me wishes to be intro- 
duced to you." With a feeling of 
delight Bertine replied that she should 
consider it an honor, and the gentle- 
man left to bring the lady. 

Expecting a revelation of some kind 
— she knew not what — Bertine stood 
in breathless suspense awaiting their 
coming. At last they reached her, 
and the lovely woman was presented 
as Mrs. Treval. For the first time 
in her life Bertine was unable to speak, 
and her nervousness was communi- 
cated to the lady who, after a painful 
pause, faltered, "Will you have the 
kindness to tell me the history of your 

"Oh," said Bertine, "that is a 
secret unknown even to my adopted 
parents. Hetty Burrit, my foster 
mother, found me one cold winter 
morning on a rickety old bridge, leading 
from Wales Point, Millport, a small 
New England village on Long Island 

"Tell me, child, the exact date." 

"January 20, 1834." 

Mrs. Treval sank, half fainting, 
onto a chair. "My child! My long 
lost child!" she exclaimed, while 
Bertine clung to her excitedly, begging 
her to explain. 



"Jeannette, my dear," said her 
husband, "I beg you to control 
yourself; we may be mistaken." 

"No, oh no! The intuition of a 
mother's heart is unerring. The sym- 
phony of love has ever been incom- 
plete without this lost chord; for the 
tender vibrations of which my listening 
ears have been long strained." 

"Well, we will seek Miss Burrit's 
adopted mother, and perhaps she can 
give us some clue which will help us 
to unravel the mystery of the child's 
disappearance at her birth." 

They left that night for Millport, 
and the next morning presented them- 
selves at the home of the fisherman, 
which Bertine's generosity had made 
comfortable and even attractive. As 
they questioned Hetty she was ret- 
icent at first, fearing harm for Bertine; 
but when the sweet-faced lady told 
Hetty the sad story of the birth of her 
child, how for days the young mother 
lay hovering between life and death, 
of her grief when consciousness re- 
turned and she was told her baby 
had died at birth, of the strange 
doubts that crept into her mind as 
she regained strength; how she had 
never given up hope of one day finding 
her child; how she had fancied it 
growing up into beauty and loveliness 
somewhere, waiting to respond to the 
call of the mother's heart; that the 
diversions of a happy and luxurious 
life had failed to still the voice that 
was always whispering to her or 
driving the hope from her heart; that 
the strange resemblance of Bertine 
to her second daughter arrested her 
attention, and when she learned the 
mystery of her birth an unerring 
instinct told her that the fulfillment 
of her hopes was at hand. 

After Mrs. Treval finished her 
story, Hetty grasped her hands and 
in an almost hysterical voice said, 
"Madame, Bertine is your child. I 
have waited all these years praying 
that I might be an instrument in 
God's hands to restore that child to 
her cruelly wronged mother." And 
in her simple manner Hetty related 
what she had never breathed to anv 

one before, not even to her faithful 
Jonah, telling Mrs. Treval the inci- 
dents connected with the findm; 
the child. How she had 6een Dr. 
Foot, the village physician, pass out 
through the iron gates which marked 
the entrance to the park surrounding 
the great house on the bluff, and 
possessing, she said, her share of 
curiosity, that was rife at that time 
among the villagers concerning the 
occupants of the lonely mansion, she 
watched him place the basket on the 
bridge and conceal himself behind 
the wreck of an old boat that lay on the 
shore. After she took up the basket 
and walked on in the dim mon 
light, she knew that he was folic 
her; and when he subsequently called at 
her humble home (as did many of the 
villagers), ostensibly to gratify his 
curiosity about the little waif who had 
so suddenly drifted into their m 
she knew by his many questions that 
for reasons of his own he never meant 
to lose sight of the child. And when 
shortly afterwards his steady old pony 
and rusty, well-worn gig were ex- 
changed for a sleek, well-groomed 
horse and a stylish chaise, and the 
numerous other evidences of ere I 
prosperity made their appearance — 
to the mystification of the villagers — 
she noted the change but kept her 
counsel. Years passed on, with her 
watchful eyes ever on him. 

Shortly after Bertine went to > 
York to commence her studies, Dr. 
Foot came to Hetty's house, and in 
his anxiety lest he had lost sight of the 
child forever he forgot the caution 
which usually marked his interest in 
the child and demanded angrily why 
she had committed such an act of 
imprudence. Looking him steadily in 
the face, Hetty said, "Dr. Foot, 
who gave you the right to dictate to 
me concerning Bertine's future: God 
has placed her in my care, and has 
made me an instrument in His hands 
to unravel the mystery of her birth, 
and to restore her to her cruelly 
ceived mother, and I shall certainly 
do it in His own way and time. In 
the meantime. I wish no interference 



from you. Hetty Burrit knows more 
than she has ever told. But, mark 
me! If harm comes to that child 
from any cause, my lips will be un- 
sealed, and the cause of Dr. Foot's 
sudden rise from poverty to affluence 
shall be made known to the world." 

At the conclusion of Hetty's story 
the anxious parents sought and found 
the guilty doctor, and by means of 
bribes and threats forced him to di- 
vulge the truth; to confess that in 
consideration of an enormous sum he 
had promised Madame KutaresofT 
(who was enraged at the infant's 
birth), that he would plunge it into the 
sea. But fearing that in some way the 
crime might be discovered and traced 
to him, he determined that the safest 
course would be to let the child live 
and never to lose sight of it, and at 
some future time to extort more 
money from the haughty Madame 
by threatening exposure. Owing to 
circumstances the plan had never been 
put into execution, but hoping that 
some day Bertine would disgrace 
herself in her profession, he was waiting 
to dart like a spider on his prey. 

When Madame KutaresofT heard 
that the child had been discovered and 
restored to her parents, she immedi- 
ately left Paris, and purchasing a de- 
serted chateau in the south of France 
repaired thither with her companion in 
iniquity, the old German nurse. And 
together they lived their lives, haunted 
by the grim phantom remorse that 
stalked ever by their side, and wel- 
coming death at the last as a 

Although surrounded by every lux- 
ury that wealth could bestow, Bertine 
never forgot the humble guardians of 
her childhood. The tangles of life 
were all smoothed out for them by her 
watchfulness and generosity, and a 
tall white marble shaft in the Mill- 
port cemetery marks the spot where 
Hetty and Jonah are resting. 

The house on the bluff is Bertine's 
now by inheritance, but she never 
crossed the rickety old bridge leading 
from the town to the bluff after the 
story of her birth was revealed to her. 
Silent and deserted the great gloomy 
house stands. Its wide halls and 
spacious rooms are peopled only by 
the ghostly memories of the past. 
The richly decorated staircases and 
oaken ceilings are crumbling to decay. 
Its fine lawns and great flower beds are 
overgrown with weeds, and its beau- 
tiful grove has long since succumbed to 
the depredations of the needy. What 
disposition will ever be made of it 
only the coming years will tell. Cer- 
tain it is that it is rolling up more in 
taxes than it will ever pay in revenue. 

Bertine is a great-grandmother now. 
Not broken and infirm at the time of 
life which the world marks as extreme 
old age, but guided still by the beauti- 
ful philosophy which has directed her 
life and revealed to her the higher ex- 
istence. As the charms of youth have 
faded, she has grown more lovely by 
the light which shines from within, 
and in turning the pages in the great 
book of recollection, she brings forth 
her treasures, not only for herself, but 
for her children's children. 

A Twelve Years' Fight for School 




AS citizens of the Republic we 
are oppressed by a vast in- 
ertia which is overcome only 
at times of great crises. We 
take it for granted that graft exists in 
municipal administration. Usually 
we do not even recognize the specific 
evidences of ring rule as they appear 
disguised by plausible appeals to the 
common people. Undoubtedly a large 
vote is polled by those who have re- 
ceived, or hope to receive, favors from 
an all-powerful boss, but in this day of 
reformers and magazine publicity the 
boss and his court have been obliged 
to resort to popular appeals to the self- 
respecting American citizen in order 
to preserve a safe majority. 

To the student of civics the issues 
in Baltimore have been very clear 
?nd there never has been any doubt 
concerning the motives of the mu- 
nicipal administration nor of the 
havoc that was bound to be wrought 
in the schools by the policy of the 
Mayor, but the minds of the voters 
at large have been so befogged by 
plausible arguments against edu- 
cational aristocracy (viz., university 
influences), and pleas for the honest, 
simple teaching of the good old times, 
that the gang has corraled under its 
banner a large number of citizens who 
do not belong there and who are held 
there under a misapprehension. 

The story of how the grafters cap- 
tured the educational strongholds of 
Baltimore should stand as a warning 
to other cities that are in danger of 
becoming victims of the same un- 
happy fate. 

The ultimate consumers of educa- 
tion become in turn the citizens who 
supply the commodity to their chil- 


dren. The test of good schools is the 
citizens produced by them. 

Half a generation ago a wave of 
school reform swept over Baltimore, 
led by great educators and backed by 
intelligent and progressive parents. 
But the ideas and standards of the 
new citizens added to the body politic 
for the past ten years have been the 
product of the old educational mill, 
and Baltimore is still suffering from 
the effects of that period of graft and 
incompetency. For twelve years, how- 
ever, — just the time that the school 
factory takes to manufacture the raw 
product into a high school graduate, — 
Baltimore has been providing a new 
and better education for the children. 
In four years more, by the end of the 
administration of the machine-made 
Mayor, the hypothetical young person 
who entered the first grade at the 
beginning of the educational reform 
movement will have become a citi- 
zen. Good schools make for good 
citizens; good citizens provide good 
schools — not a vicious circle. 

Under the old political era in Balti- 
more there was, of course, a boss. 
There were also city councilmen. 
Then there were the twenty-two 
School Commissioners, appointed by 
the senior first-branch city councilmen 
of the twenty-two wards, under a 
patronage system, at the dictation of 
the boss. The result of this arrange- 
ment, as might have been expected, 
was that the patronage of positions 
and purchases in connection with the 
schools was divided into twenty-two 
parts. The personnel of the teaching 
force, therefore, was made up of the 
sisters, cousins, aunts, even grand- 
mothers, friends and friends of friends 



of the boss, the School Board members 
and the city councilmen. 

It has frequently happened during 
this regime that youthful applicants 
for positions to teach, of whom no 
professional training was required, were 
obliged to visit saloons, cigar stands, 
and sundry business places of a na- 
ture generally tabooed by the feminine 

The School Commissioners were 
party men and were made, consti- 
tuted and appointed Commissioners 
by the political system. Doubtless 
there were good Commissioners and bad 
Commissioners, but each and all were 
subject to the same tenure of office. 
It is well known that there were Com- 
missioners who had put the proposi- 
tion of selling positions into terms of 
cash. Others, more delicate in their 
feelings, suggested gifts. One mem- 
ber, it is told, proudly exhibited to an 
applicant who called on him a goodly 
display of silver, with the remark, 
"My friends always give me silver." 
The deal was apparent. Thirty pieces 
of silver, thirty positions to teach in 
the public schools. Rather a sad 
story for the ancient and honorable 
city of Baltimore, is it not? 

Stories are told of these good old 
times when teachers sat and crocheted 
or sewed beautiful, long seams with 
tiny, careful stitches, while the chil- 
dren "repeated" their lessons, with a 
net accomplishment showing more 
thread lace and lingerie gowns than 
mental alertness and positive knowl- 
edge on the part of the pupils. There 
was some good teaching, of course, in 
spite of the grossly inadequate meth- 
ods of selecting teachers. Among a 
teaching corps of eighteen hundred, 
however untrained and inexperienced, 
there are bound to develop some who 
will make of themselves efficient guides 
to the young. The handicap in most 
instances, however, proved quite effec- 

But there is in Baltimore a great 
university, and through the leadership 
of Dr. Gilman, a progressive movement 
to free the schools from politics was 
inaugurated. Before this, too, there 

came to Baltimore Dr. J. M. Rice, an 
eminent educator, who visited the 
classrooms of the schools in some 
thirty American cities. On his tour 
of inspection Dr. Rice had observed 
some ludicrously poor teaching, but 
for absolute inefficiency of system 
Baltimore headed the list. Dr. Rice 
says in his article in the Forum (Octo- 
ber, 1892) that he "did not succeed 
in discovering any evidence that the 
science of education had as yet found 
its way into the public schools of 
Baltimore." The entrenched political 
power which stood for corruption and 
the delusion of the citizens of Balti- 
more that their schools were "among 
the best in the country" tended to re- 
tard development. 

For nearly two centuries the old 
Colonial families of Baltimore had 
been educating their children in pri- 
vate schools or at home, and had been 
living their peaceful, pleasant lives 
without realizing that a late importa- 
tion from Ireland's emerald shores had 
inherited the public school system and 
that this indefatigable gentleman was 
in complete control of the eighteen 
hundred teachers and sundry janitors, 
clerks and employees needed to con- 
duct a profitable enterprise. But the 
efficiency of eighty thousand school 
children enrolled each year is rather a 
large tribute for any city to pay into 
the hands of a self-appointed ruler. 

By the charter of 1898 there was an 
effort to end the disgraceful control of 
the schools. Haphazard methods of 
teaching, handed down from generation 
to generation, were to be replaced by 
the best that American ideals of edu- 
cation had evolved. The charter abol- 
ished the ward-heeler plan of the 
School Board, and made provision 
that a board of nine members should 
control the schools, three members to 
be appointed every three years to 
serve for six years, thereby insuring a 
fairly permanent policy. The ap- 
pointments were to be made by the 
Mayor and to be ratified by the second 
branch of the City Council. The 
three-year period would seldom make 
it incumbent upon a Mayor, newly 



elected for a four-year term, to make 
appointments before becoming en- 
tirely familiar with the situation. 
The intention, too, was to make the 
Board entirely free from the appoint- 
ing power, but there was a provision 
that the Mayor could, by a species of 
"recall," dismiss "at pleasure" any 
new member of the School Board 
within six months of appointment. 

The new Board wrote to three of the 
best-known educators in the United 
States, asking for advice as to whom 
they could secure to undertake the 
stupendous task of grafting a fully 
developed reform onto an overgrown 
and demoralized school system. Curi- 
ously enough, the first name mentioned 
in each case was the same, James H. 
Van Sickle, Superintendent of Schools 
in North Denver, Col. 

After Mr. Van Sickle had accepted 
the call to Baltimore, after he had re- 
signed his position in Denver, an un- 
expected development arose. Some 
one had discovered that the charter 
provided that all city officials should 
be registered voters of Baltimore. It 
was plain to be seen that the boss was 
only deposed in one of his provinces. 
Mr. Van Sickle, however, did come to 
Baltimore, and the courts decided 
that the Superintendent was not a 
city official within the meaning of the 
law. The gang had seen that he did 
not enter upon his labors under fa- 
vorable auspices. Their work did not 
stop here. The most exaggerated and 
ridiculously untrue stories, intended 
to arouse sectional prejudices, were 
circulated among the teachers and 
parents. Before the new Superin- 
tendent arrived he was sure of the 
active opposition of the boss and his 

The conditions which Mr. Van Sickle 
found were appalling. Baltimore had 
become the dumping ground for anti- 
quated editions of schoolbooks, and 
the "book men" were accustomed to 
selling excessive numbers of books. It 
was not strange, therefore, that the 
"book men" soon allied themselves 
with the boss and his gang. They, too, 
occupied themselves by working upon 

the natural prejudices of the teachers 
in suggesting to them to protest against 

changes that would entail an enor- 
mous increase of work and en' 
Some of the teachers, sighing for days 
of ease, and possibly finding it dim- 
cult to apply new methods to illy 
prepared pupils, joined the ranr. 
the insurgents. The politicians, the 
"book men," and the teachers who 
desired no change from the old sys- 
tem, then, formed the main elements 
of the organized opposition to school 

There is nothing to prevent a teacher 
in Baltimore from holding her position 
until she dies of old age, unless ch; 
of gross incompetency can be pr< 
before the Board. A few yean Ig 
number of well-known Baltimore citi- 
zens were highly indignant over the 
enforced retirement of an estimable 
old lad}- of eighty years, wh 
and hearing were 60 impaired that it 
was almost impossible to con-, 
with her. Mr. Van Sickle inherited a 
corps of untrained and undisciplined 
teachers whose tenure of office 
practically permanent. 

And yet, here is a record of ace 
plishment in the face of seemingly 
unsurmountable difficulties. Balti- 
more teachers were not only generally 
untrained, but they didn't believe 
that special training was necessary. 
They were home-made and they didn't 
know that a Boston or an Indianapolis 
teacher was required to know about 
things of which they had never heard. 

Training schools for both colored 
and white teachers, practice teaching 
and occasional importations from other 
cities have contributed to the improve- 
ment of teaching in Baltimore. 

Recognition of summer school at- 
tendance by promotion and increase 
in salary has introduced number 
untrained teachers to new methods 
and higher ideals of professional excel- 
lence, but the schools of Baltimore 
yet rival the departments at Washing- 
ton in the number of antiquated 
holders who have outgrown their 

Teachers are now appointed and pro- 



moted on a merit basis, with the two- 
fold result of securing better teachers 
and providing an example of ethical 
standards for the school children. 
The importance of this latter result 
cannot be overestimated in a city 
which has become calloused to methods 
of graft and personal favoritism. 

But the children have gained most 
by the new teaching. The uninitiated 
may find it difficult to believe that 
individual training may be given to 
eighty thousand children, and yet that 
is what has been done in the schools of 
Baltimore. The misfits in a school 
system have long been the despair of 
educators. A modern city now pro- 
vides so many gradations and meets 
so many conditions that there is sure 
to be some place for each child. The 
group system in Baltimore has pro- 
vided this same arrangement within 
the group unit. Half-yearly promo- 
tions of the children have helped 
to eliminate waste of time and to 
maintain closer grading. Prepara- 
tory classes in the seventh and eighth 
grades have secured larger educational 
facilities for those who have the ability 
to profit by them. 

The sub-normal child is looked after 
with great care. Special afternoon in- 
struction is given to the little tots 
who do not readily fall into the school 
way of doing things, and the child who 
is too large or too old for his class is 
specially taught until he can enter a 
class where he seems to belong. Chil- 
dren who do not fit into a grade are 
given special instruction in any sub- 
ject in which they are deficient. Spe- 
cial classes are provided for epileptics. 

In short, the instruction, so far as 
possible, is fitted to the needs of the 
individual child. This is an endeavor 
to provide special education for special 
groups of children and to forever do 
away with the machine-made pattern of 
education offered alike to all children. 

In addition to this, larger oppor- 
tunities are offered to all. Manual 
training centers for boys and cooking 
centers for girls have been established 
in the upper grades. Some practical 
industrial work has been introduced. 

Music and drawing are now taught in a 
thoroughly satisfactory manner under 
special supervision. The school build- 
ings and children are inspected by 
physicians connected with the Depart- 
ment of Health. 

The teachers have raised a hue and 
cry over the wrongs of supervision, 
the mistake of the group-principal 
system, the injustice of promotional 
examinations, the difficulties of sec- 
tional teaching, the enforced retire- 
ment of aged teachers, the hardships 
of teaching by schedules, and occa- 
sionally a complaint is made that the 
curriculum is not arranged for the best 
interests of the children, but it is to 
be marked that practically every com- 
plaint that comes from the dissatisfied 
teachers has to do with the supposed 
welfare of the teacher and not of the 
pupil. Having grown up with the 
idea that positions on the teaching 
force of the city were supplied pri- 
marily as a means of livelihood for the 
teacher, the feeling is still strong that 
it is cruel and inhuman to take away 
that means of support for any rea- 
son. There is no recognition of the 
principle that an efficient teacher may 
yearly contribute her share to the 
training of fifty children and that one 
indifferent or incompetent teacher 
may yearly actually harm the pupils 
under her so that they will be seriously 
handicapped in their life work. 

Outside of these technical educa- 
tional controversies on which nearly 
every one in Baltimore has ventured 
some kind of an opinion, there have 
been heard three others. Business 
men object to vertical handwriting; 
practical parents object to the fads, 
such as manual training for boys and 
sewing for girls; they want the three 
R's taught as they were when they 
went to school; and finally the state- 
ment has been made so often and so 
persistently that many intelligent citi- 
zens have thought that there must be 
some basis of fact to warrant it, that 
Mr. Van Sickle, born in the North and 
a resident of the West, advocated 
sending colored and white children to 
the same schools. 



The last statement may be an- 
swered first, because the most that can 
be said is simply that it is untrue. A 
member of the School Board once 
asked Mrs. Van Sickle if it were really 
true that she ate with her colored cook. 
Circulating such absurd stories has 
been one of the best weapons of the 
politicians, for they know that a story 
once started will always find those who 
will believe it, and that no amount of 
denial will prove convincing. 

The other objections are questions 
of policy or theory, but they are not so 
abstruse that they cannot be read- 
ily understood. It, therefore, seems 
worth while to summarize the condi- 
tions that have led to the adoption 
of the present system. 

It is not commonly understood, it 
would seem, that promotional ex- 
aminations and the group-principal 
system are not theories of education 
to be advocated or opposed under all 
circumstances, but are simply ex- 
pedients to meet local conditions. 
Before 1900 the salaries of teachers 
were disgracefully small. All salaries 
have been advanced during the past 
ten years, but the limited amount of 
funds at the disposal of the Board and 
the desirability of improving the effi- 
ciency of the teaching force led to the 
adoption of promotional examinations 
as one of the methods by which an 
increase in salary might be secured. 

The group-principal system, also 
in the nature of an expedient, was put 
into effect to do away with a school 
management which permitted two 
principals in every building and four 
in some, "with consequent conflict of 
authority and rivalry for the acquisi- 
tion and retention of pupils to keep 
up the enrollment in certain grades." 
(Report of the Superintendent of 
Public Instruction for 1909.) 

Sectional teaching, though it sounds 
complicated, simply refers to the 
method of breaking up the classroom 
mass into smaller groups in order to 
secure the double result of bringing 
the teaching into closer contact with 
the needs of the individual pupil and 
to provide for study under the super- 

vision of the teacher. It certainly 
does not seem as though this arr^ 
ment could be a heinous crime, th 
the loud complaints of some of the 
teachers and parents would indicate 
that this institution was contrived for 
the special purpose of taxing teachers 
beyond their strength and preventing 
pupils from receiving a sound and 
sensible education in reading, writing, 
and arithmetic. 

There are those who believe in I 
tical handwriting. There are tl 
who do not. Most of Baltin. 
business men belong, apparently. I 
the class that does not. Bankers, 
particularly, appear to prefer the 
slanting brand. The only misappre- 
hension that has arisen regarding this 
much-mooted question is that vertical 
handwriting came in with the reform 
movement. This is not true. Vertical 
handwriting was introduced into the 
schools of Baltimore in 1898, at a time 
when many other cities had adopted 
it. It is now no longer taught in the 
intermediate and upper grades. 

Concerning the so-called fads and 
frills of education, it is a matter of 
opinion as to whether training for 
children's hands and vocational work 
in general can be called fads in con- 
tradistinction to reading, writing, and 
mathematics. When trade schools in 
mass are decried by those who ad- 
vocate the classical high-school train- 
ing, it becomes increasingly difficult 
to see why the term of fad fits the 
practical rather than the graceful 
phase of education. 

The discussion of these local objec- 
tions to the school system would be 
out of place were it not for the fact 
that the vote in the last mayoralty cam- 
paign was largely influenced by these 
very criticisms. It was by these 
arguments that the grafters won the 
election and the entry into all the 
other departments of city government. 

For eleven years there has been war. 
Diplomacy and compromise were not 
possible remedies, because no com- 
promise with wrong can ever secure 
the results for which modern educa- 
tion stands. The fact that the organ- 



ized Opposition has been able to 
hoodwink many citizens into join- 
ing it in the fight does not change the 
platform on which they all stand 
together — that of graft, patronage, 
and personal influence. Professional- 
ism in education and rectitude in ad- 
ministration have been the keynotes 
of Mr. Van Sickle's regime. 

During the administration of the 
former Mayor the Council appropri- 
ated #2,000 to pay for a Commission 
of Educators to come to Baltimore 
and make an investigation and report 
on the schools. From the fact that 
the city was anxious to secure the 
services of Dr. Elmer Brown, then 
United States Commissioner of Edu- 
cation, the report was published as an 
official document of the United States 
Government (United States Bureau 
of Education, Bulletin, 1911, No. 4, 
whole number 450). Prof. Ellwood 
P. Cubberley, head of the Department 
of Education at Stanford University, 
and Dr. Calvin N. Kendall, Superin- 
tendent of Public Instruction at In- 
dianapolis, Ind., served with the 
United States Commissioner of Edu- 
cation. The report is the first au- 
thoritative publication of its kind in 
the country and it has served to bring 
the Baltimore situation to the atten- 
tion of educators throughout the 
United States. The report is judi- 
cial in character and recognizes clearly 
the unmistakable professional excel- 
lence of the public schools as compared 
with conditions existing before Mr. 
Van Sickle came to Baltimore. 

In the spring of 1911 came the 
primary nominations for city officials. 
Baltimore had at this time a School 
Board composed of eminent citizens 
who gave their best thought to the ad- 
ministration of the schools. The 
Democratic candidate, James H. Pres- 
ton, stated in his pre-election speeches 
that he did not approve of the "John 
T. Finney" type of man on the School 
Board. The phrase has become a 
classic, since Dr. John T. Finney is, 
perhaps, Baltimore's most eminent 
citizen. But the citizens on all sides 
calmly dismissed the matter by saying, 

"Oh, he would never dare to interfere 
with Dr. Finney." Mr. Preston was 
elected, but it was largely because the 
honest citizens of Baltimore found 
themselves between the horns of a 
dilemma in that there was only the 
choice between the Democratic ma- 
chine candidate and the Republican 
machine candidate. Since the citizens 
of Baltimore are most of them hered- 
itary Democrats, the Democratic 
candidate was elected. But Mayor 
Preston had made pre-election prom- 
ises that Mr. Van Sickle should be 
dismissed, and that the schools should 
be taken from the reformers. 

Shortly after the Mayor's induction 
into office he called a conference with 
the School Board, instructing them 
that discord must cease. He said 
that he believed that Mr. Van Sickle 
was the cause of all the strife and that 
Mr. Van Sickle must go. If no action 
was taken by the Board he would 
feel it his duty to dismiss three gentle- 
men of the Board who had been ap- 
pointed within the preceding six 
months. These appointments were 
made by his predecessor for unex- 
pired terms, so that the Mayor really 
came into the power to change the 
situation by a kind of "fluke." It is 
said that the Mayor even gave these 
three Commissioners to understand 
that if they would promise to secure 
the resignation of Mr. Van Sickle by 
the following January he would not 
disturb them, and it seems more than 
probable that the Mayor never knew 
that his proposition was one that any 
honorable man would consider in- 
sulting. The three members indig- 
nantly declined to receive from the 
Mayor instructions concerning their 
future action. 

The three Commissioners, including 
Dr. Finney, were dismissed from office 
a few days later, in spite of the fact 
that the women of Baltimore pre- 
sented a formal protest, signed by 
over a thousand citizens, against the 
action of the Mayor. The first quali- 
fication which the Mayor sought 
in considering the new appointments 
was that the men under consideration 



should have definitely committed 
themselves to the "anti-Van Sickle" 
policy. A large number of persons 
were approached, but no well-known 
citizen to whom it was offered would 
consent to accept the position. The 
men selected met the Mayor's one 
requisite. That is about all that had 
ever been known about them. The 
members of the City Council hardly 
knew the names on which they were 
voting, but the confirmation of the 
Mayor's appointees was none the less 
prompt because of that. 

Then came the special meeting of 
the new Board of School Commis- 
sioners. The session was an open one 
Over a hundred citizens attended in a 
delegation and some twenty speeches 
were made from the floor, all urging 
the new members to delay action until 
they had an opportunity to investi- 
gate the policies of the Board, to know 
personally of Mr. Van Sickle's ability, 
and to study the technical points in- 
volved. But the new majority, formed 
by the Mayor's appointments, was 
present to vote and not to discuss 
questions of policy. By a vote of 
five to four Air. Van Sickle was 

dismissed without hearing, nitl 
charges, without salary and without 

Mr. Van Sickle was immediately 
called to the superintendency of 
Springfield, Mass., but what of Bal- 
timore? The schools of Baltimore 
are now under the direction of men 
untried in educational administration 
and already gross educational blunders 
are being made. The careful work of a 
decade is being demolished. There is 
every evidence that the disgraceful con- 
ditions of the eighties and nineties 
will again prevail. While in other 
cities reform Mayors are searching 
vainly for men of ideals and ability 
who are willing to devote time and 
energy to unpaid Boards, it has been a 
spectacle for cynics to see the Mayor 
of Baltimore oust from office men of 
the highest attainments, known and 
revered throughout the country. 

Baltimore is not resigned. The 
citizens are demanding a speedy rem- 
edy in the form of an improved city 
government. A struggle will be made 
to right the wrongs of the past. 

The moral is this, citizens of the 
Republic, let us keep our schools in 
the hands of educational experts. 



The Burden of Cheap Production 


ENGLAND has chosen to assume 
the burden of cheap produc- 
tion, on the theory that it is 
of more importance for her 
to dominate the world's markets by 
underselling than to secure to her 
people a more liberal remuneration 
for their toil — a choice upon which 
we have no comment to offer. Ele- 
ments enter into the fiscal policy of 
England (such as the necessity of im- 
porting three-quarters of her food 
supply), which in America are wholly 
negligible, and rash indeed would be 
the foreigner who undertook to proffer 
gratuitous advice on the serious, not 

to say appalling issues which confront 
the island empire. 

But when the same fiscal policy is 
held before the people of the United 
States as a shining light, and the cure 
for all our (mostly imaginary) ills, we 
are justified in coming to closer terms 
with English economic conditions that 
we may learn more precisely how and 
by whom this burden of cheap pro- 
duction is borne. 

The following observations bearing 
upon this question are the fruits of a 
sojourn among the woolen workers of 
the midland district of England. 

A previous study of the cheap pro- 




duction of cotton goods in the same- 
country had brought us face to face 
with conditions equally astonishing 
and distressing to American eyes. We 
were forced to a realization that here 
economics was not the science of 
wealth, but the science of poverty. As 
we pass from these Lancashire con on 
centers to t he dist rid s where I he manu- 
facture of woolen goods is the pre- 
vailing industry, it is borne in upon us 
that we are in the presence ol more 

poverty and less science. 

One does not meei on every hand 

class. Some mi! i bad a •• 

tat ion thai only the Sting of : i 

will drive t he worker to seek 
ployment. Whil< fficial 

statistics in vain for evid< 
fact, and no v. I 
among English busin< 
scarcely | end a day in intiii... 1 1 
cial ion with the laborers w it I 

• ing that such know - 
inon talk, as it .■ 

of their craft, a kind of 54 

able common pi 

nai i re < f examin . an- 


^* a a lis 












. ...,,» in i liny 


those evidences of adroit and effective 
organization which makes so compact 
a unit of the English cotton industry. 
The various mills appear to work more 
independently of one another. There 
is a wider range of difference between 
them in method and machinery, and 
in the conditions of labor. Question- 
ing elicits from the working people the 
invariable statement that "some mas- 
ters do much better than others/' 
Those who are so fortunate as to secure 
employment in the better mills look 
down upon their brother workmen of 
other establishments as an inferior 

ous professors and the most available 
cribs and ponies among the student 
bodies of our colleges. But the im- 
partial outsider soc: 
not all of this difference is due to the 
varying business ability and personal 
disposition of the masters. Whatever 
differences there may be in this 
spect are never sufficient to alter the 
general truth that the cheaper the 
class of goods manufactured, the 
poorer is the condition of the laK r c g 

In those districts where the c - 
sumption of shoddy is relatively la E 



the evidences of poverty is most dis- 
tressing, and there looms the inevitable 
and tragic accompaniment of moral 
degradation. A prominent divine of 
the English church (no less a personage 
in fact than the Bishop of Leeds) 
publicly stated during the time of my 
visit to that city that he knew of entire 
streets of Leeds given over to the worst 
forms of the "white slave" traffic — 
that in which parents sell their daugh- 
ters or turn them into the streets to 
bring back money. 

And as one feels the difference in 

at Leeds, but it was at Bradford that 
I learned that to work and be poor 
might mean the same thing. There 
are no slums in Bradford nor anything 
justifying such a name in Leeds. The 
civic arrangements of those munici- 
palities must be most admirable. The 
poverty that faces one there is not 
that of ignorance, vice and incapacity. 
Here is no catch basin for a human 
residue. Squalor and disease-breeding 
filth are eliminated. Here is skill, 
intelligence, industry — ■ and yet pov- 
erty. Here is England stripped for 


passing from Manchester to Leeds, 
so in passing from Leeds to Bradford 
one feels a change of atmosphere, a 
distinct lowering of tone. Bradford 
is a center of the low-grade worsted 
industry. Bradford fascinated me 
with its intense concentrations of the 
social problems of industrial civiliza- 
tion. Something had I seen of the 
poverty of the slums of American 
cities, with their terrible problems in 
human waste. But I had never before 
seen poverty and industry rendered 
synonymous. There had been hints 
of it in Manchester, clearer intimations 

industrial warfare. Here are half- 
pennies studied as elements in inter- 
national competition. Here the ques- 
tion, "what is a living wage?" is 
answered from a competitive, not from 
a human necessity. Here are great 
mills in construction, of which en- 
gineering skill has exhausted its last 
resource. Here are streets upon 
streets of tenements built with "en- 
lightened" philanthropy. Here, as 
vultures that scent the battle and 
gather about the bloody field, are the 
pawnshops. The three balls hang 
above so many doors that one wonders 





what there may he to pawn. A glance 
within is painfull}- illuminating. (>nl\ 
in the poorest junk shops of our worst 
slums can be found any such collec- 
tion of refuse as fill the pawnshops of 
this great industrial community: clogs, 
whose original value was but three 
shillings, now worn until their wooden 
soles are cracked and split, rickety 
furniture, old tins, hopeless masses of 
hopeless clothing — entire family equip- 
ments bartered for a few shillings. 
"Verily, naked have they come and 
naked shall they return." Children 
sprawl about the street as if there were 
no such thing as compulsory schooling. 
Mothers with babes in their arms 
rush to the little shops a few minutes 
before meal-time — those tin}" shops 
so brave with the painted signs of 
patent nostrums, so meager in their 
offerings of nourishing food. This is a 
corner of the canvas, a part of the 
picture of which tables of statistics 
give so poor a conception. And yet, 
wdth this picture in mind, the sta- 
tistics themselves are not unillumi- 

But these statistics do not tell the 
whole story. The question of greatest 
importance is not what are the ex- 

tremes, but what is the 

dit ion of the greatest number. That 

is rather hard to do | 

tables, but not at all difficult to 

bj going among the ; • 

statistician tells u^ that 1,171,216 

workers in the textile trader in | 

land arc earning 17^. 6d. • I 

week. According to m) 

the figure i^ (mite high enough. I 
should be more inclined to give cred- 
ence to the British Board of Trade 

figures which put the of earn- 

ings of all classes of wool w-rko 
I5s.9d. I ,. Mr. \\. A. G. 

Clark, of the I . v 1 )--partme: tl 

Commerce and Labor, place- the 
a\ erage earnings of . In Brad- 

ford at from _- ft ~_ 
men to IT. • en. But 

weavers arc a ratively well-paid 

croup. The • • | | g 

not taken from any < >f these re} 
nor from the books of manufactui 
The} arc- such as I was able to learn 
from the laborer- themselves as the 
amount v which the\ were actually 
able to earn. Nor did I visit the city 
at a time of depression. There 
then, and is to-day, an active demand 








IfS*"" ^ 




. V 

II \ J ™ 
1 \ |g| 






for labor. Indeed, in some lines the 
demand distinctly exceeded the sup- 
ply. And yet this excess demand was 
able to effect only a nominal lifting 
of the wage scale. WHY? Let Eng- 
land's fiscal policy answer that ques- 

No small part of the present marked 
activity in the district is due to an 
anticipation of increased business 
through the lowering of the American 
tariff. Possibly the Turkish war has 
been a factor as well as a general up- 
trend of the trade after a long depres- 
sion and over conservative buying. I 
was told that skilled men workers 
sometimes earned as much as 30s. 
($7.20) a week, but I found no man 
who claimed that he himself was mak- 
ing that much. A census taken at a 
particularly favorable time elicited the 
result that at that moment 482,000 of 

the most skilled adult male workers 
were earning an average of 28s. Id. 
($6.72) a week. I cannot imagine 
how that census was taken. Low as 
is the figure from an American stand- 
point, it is higher than anything I was 
able to find among the working people 
of Leeds and Bradford. It is only the 
exceptional laborer in the exceptional 
mill who makes over a pound a week. 
A very large percentage of the labor 
in the mills is done by boys and young 
women, who do not receive over ten 
and eight shillings a week respectively, 
and down to six and seven shillings. 
Six shillings is $1.44, and there are 
thousands of girls working for that 
amount a week. And yet there are 
rarely as many girls in Bradford as the 
mills want. They are deft, rapid and 
patient workers, and yet eight shillings 
a week is their average wage. Grown 





women who have become skilled 
laborers rarely make over 15s. ($3.60) 
a week. These boys, girls and women 
seem to form a majority ol the woolen 
workers in the Bradford district. 
Their contribution to the family sup- 
port is often the only one obtainable. 
Certainly we will have embraced all 
fluctuations and covered the truth if 
we say that actual wages range from 
$8.00 a week to $1.50 a week, and that 
the prevailing average ranges from 
$6.00 to $3.50. a week. 

We are told that this amount will 
buy far more in England than in our 
country. It surely must buy some 
more or the support of life would be 

But the astonishing thing is not 
that it buys more, but that it bin's so 
little more. Into that question I 
looked with great interest and no little 
care. Our own public excitement over 
the cost of living added to the interest 
of the subject. 

Railroad fares (third class) average 

a penny (tw< 

now a widely prevailing rate in this 
country. It is my observation that 
railroad fares may be taken as a de- 
term in in-j basi Where 
they are the same. li\ g will 
average very nearly the same. T: 
because the expei railroads in- 
clude about every form of expense 
known to the community. 

There are a few things that are 
definitely cheaper in England than in 
America. But the fair observer must 
acknowledge that the main difference 
is made up by getting along with less. 
Modern conveniences that are found 
in almost every worker's home in 
America, are practically unknown in 
the homes of even the moderately 
well-to-do in England. Houses that 
pass as very good tenements for the 
working classes there could not poss - 
bly find, a respectable tenant here. 
Such tenements as are occupied 
mill workers of Leeds and Bradford 
rent for from three shillings tc 




shillings a week. For this sum they 
secure a two or four room tenement, 
with two doors, four or eight windows, 
no cellar, no sink, a stone or earth 
floor on the first story, and a slab- 
stone roof. Grain could not be kept 
from moulding in it. Most animals 
could not live in it. And yet its ex- 
terior appearance at first impresses the 
American favorably. The universal 
use of stone and brick, as building 
materials, lend a substantial appear- 
ance that our wooden buildings lack. 
It is home, and the flowers or bit of an 
ornament in the window is bright. 
The ensemble is more picturesque than 
American homes of the same relative 

In general, clothing in England is 
cheaper than in America. Shoes are 
not cheaper, nor are low-grade textiles 
much cheaper. I purchased a pair of 
English-made shoes at an average 
store in Manchester. The price was 
quite as high as I would have had to 
pay in Boston for an equally good 
shoe. Near-by American-made shoes 
of well-known factory makes were on 
sale at the same price that is charged 
for them in this country and at sub- 
stantially the same price as the Eng- 
lish shoes. They told me that the 




English shoes were better. They were 
not appreciably so. English working 
people do not attempt to buy the higher 
priced goods, where the largest differ- 
ence of price occur. American mill 
girls would not be seen on the street in 
the clothing habitually worn to and 
from work here by the English mill girl. 
This dress is so prevalent as to be 
almost a uniform. Who in the mill 
districts does not know it well: It 
consists of a black or brown cotton 
skirt, clogs, woolen stockings, and a 
shawl of sober hue, gray or brown or 
black, that completely envelopes tin- 
rest of the figure. 

Good food is certainly more ex- 
pensive in England than in America. 
Americans judge very carelessly to tin- 
contrary from the prices which t hex- 
pay for hotel meals in fine hotels. 
This price is principally made up of 
service, which is, of course, cheaper, 
and has nothing whatever to do with 
the question. Statistics made up from 
wholesale prices are equally far from 
the truth, just as they are with us. 
Any American housewife would laugh 
at the idea of running her table on the 

prices obtainable from a who]' 
list. It hai but little relation to what 
she pays. That price ifl made . 
other element s. 1 ha 
of Statement* about the {-rice of bread 
in England. There are ma: 
of figuring it. But there i- only one 
way in which the housewife can bu 
1 sat in the kitchen and watched that 
purchase made, the tiny penny loaf. 
I saw the baker bring it in am: 
poor woman buy it. a loaf SO small 1 
would almost have called it a bun. 
And I know that the price of brea 
higher in England than in America. 
Meat may seem cheaper beca 
coarse varieties are habitually 

sumed. ( rood meat i- not 

pensive, but ver) 

Good fruit, such a- an} - laborer may 
buy in America freely and in abund- 
ance, i- prohibitively high to the Eng- 
lish laborer. 

lie can buy a glass of be< half 

penny, and I do not know what he 
would do without it. It is that half 
penny glass of beer. I verily be. 
that lie- between England and in- 
dustrial revolution. 


Mammy's Jack O'Lantern 


WHAT yo' ax me dat fur? 
Don' yo' bof know dat 
when I tole yo' 'bout de 
solgers in war time bustin' 
in de house down ol' home in de mid 
hour uv de night, an' scarin' every- 
body mos' to death, nary one uv yo' 
didn't go to sleep till mos' day, an' 
Miss Carline say to me, 'Now, mammy, 
you mus' promise me yo' never gwine 
tell dese twinzes no mo' scary stories,' 
an' I say, 'Deed I won't, Miss Car- 
line, an' now yo' bof up an' ax me to 
tell yo' ,bout de Jack o'Lanterns. I 
done give my word to Miss Carline, 
an' yo' is done sade yo' prayers, an' 
is all snug in yo' bade an' I wants yo' 
to shet yo' eyes straight up, an' go to 
sleep while I sings. 

"When Mars Jesus call me, 
Steal away, steal away! 
He call me by de thunder, 
Steal away, oh my soul. 

"I heah de voices callin' me 
Steal away! steal away, chillun! 
Yo' ain't got long to linger heah, 
Steal away! oh my soul! 

01' satin he stan — " 

Two little heads appeared above the 
coverlid, and Honey interrupted the 

"You forgot, mammy!" he sais, 
"that I am going to put on pants 
soon,andbea man justlike Mars John." 
W "I knows it! I knows it! an' yo' is 
jes as much like yo' uncle now as two 
peas is." 

"And we are almost old enough to 
go to school, so please, mammy," 
pleaded Sweety, "tell us about old 
Jack o'Lantern." 

"Well," answered mammy, relent- 
ing, for she never could thwart a desire 
of these children, "If I tells yo' an' 
vo' gits skeered, Miss Carline gwine 

blame me, an' though I done stan' 
father an' mother fur yo' all dese 
years, I ain't gwine be sponsible fur 
yo' dis time." She paused a moment, 
then continued, "You see da ain't got 
no sich things up north heah, no 
ghoses, nor Jack o'Lanterns, nor 
nuthin'. Da ain't got no foxes to 
hunt, nor possoms to ros' an' da 
actually ain't got no weasels nor screech 
owls to steal de chickens," mammy 
sighed. "I tell yo' when yo' gits to 
thinkin' 'bout dese things it seems 
mighty lonesome up heah." She spoke 
dreamily, and her mind lingered in 
those cherished scenes until aroused 
by the children. 

"I don' know nuthin' much 'bout 
dem Jack o'Lanterns," she said, 
" 'cept by hearin'. Da lives way down 
in de swamps an' de marshes. I wuz 
de nus maid up at de Manor House, 
an' I wan' 'lowed to go out nights, 
but sometimes I 'swade ole mistis to 
lem me go down to de quarters, an' 
den I heah Uncle Isaac tell 'bout his 
speriences wid dem Jack o'Lanterns. 
When I heah it every single hair on 
my hade 'gin' to riz straight up. May 
be yo' don' know it, but Uncle Isaac 
an' likewise Uncle Jake wuz bof um 
two brothers, an' bof uv dyah wives 
neither one dind't 'blong to ole marster, 
but da lived on de nex plantation dat 
jined owern. Every Saturday night 
ol' marster give bof uv um a pass to 
go over dyah. But dyah wan no way 
to git dyah 'cepin da go 'cross de 
medow, 'scusin de swamp. I done 
tole yo dat dem things mostly stays 
in low Ian' places, cepin on dark dis- 
mal nights when dyah ain't no moon, 
nor stars, nor nuthin' in de firmament. 
Den da comes out." 

Are there any stars or moon to- 
night, mammy?" asked Sweety, in a 
tremulous tone." 




"I don' know nuthin' 'bout to- 
night," answered mammy, "kase I 
been heah ever since supper time 
tryin' to git yo' an' Honey to go to 
sleep, an' I ain't had no chance to 
look out de winder yit. But I wuz 
gwine to say, dat I never seed nuthin' 
no time, 'scusin one night when I wuz 
down to de quarter an' aunt Crissy 
call me to look out de do' — an' bless 

"Why didn't you lock the door, and 
look out the window, mammy!" asked 
the practical Honey. 

"If yo' chillun gwine brake in so an' 
'stroy all my 'membrance I gwine give 
right up. Yo' ain't nary one of you 
got yo' eyes shet up nut her. If dyah 
had been any winder to see from I 
would uv sade so. Dyah wan' no 
winders in dem days, jes de do,' an' 
me' an' Aunt Crissy jes peep frum de 
crack an' see de three mile fence 'long 
side de woods all 'luminated an' dem 
things er dancin' an' prancin' up an' 
down jes as if dyah wan' nobody 
'roun' dat 'fessed 'ligeon." 

"Yo' see, nuthin' never ken come 
where prayin' people live. 01' satin 
hisself can' stan' aginst prayer. When 
I see dat sight I gits all over in a ague 
an' slam de do' to. Den Uncle Jake 
settin' down dyah by de fire, gin to tell 
all we how one night he an' Uncle 
Isaac started off to see dyah wivezis, 
da gin to spute 'bout dis way, an' 
dat way bein' de shortes' an' da could- 
n't 'gree, so da got attached an 
separated one frum de yuther, an' 
Uncle Jake he started 'cross de swamp 
by hisself. He didn't never hev but 
one eye to see wid, Uncle Jake didn't." 

"Where was his other eye?" in- 
quired Honey. 

"I don' object to know zackly how 
he got 'sposed uv de yuther one. 
Howsomever he mostly got 'long all 
right. When de night wuz still de 
Jack o'Lanterns sleep some. An' he 
would 'scape um, but yuther times 
when de win' blow noisy like, da wuz 
all up an' lively. "Dis heah night 
Uncle Jake ain't made no preparation 
to keep um down, he ain't 'member 
to put no graveyard dirt in his lef 

trouses pocket, nor to turn his jacket 
wrong side outwards, nor nuthin'. 
Still wusser, he wan' no' 'fesser uv 
'ligeon, an' when de brc /■ \.e up 

sudden, da all blaze up in his face 
Laughin' ha! ha! ha! an' Uncle Jake 
say he wuz so blinded dat he run in de 
brier bush an' got all his close tore 
off him, an' his foots full uv thf 
He had allurs been a sinner man, but 
at sich times as dese people is blegst 
to come to dyah senses, an' now Uncle 
Jake fell down on his Itn© n to 

pray. But he done put it off I 
da done mark him 'fore dis; an' da 
don' pay no 'tention to him, but jump 
on his back an' laugh! an' laugh 
oP satin come right 'fore him, an' 
Uncle Jake drapped right down an' 
don 1 know nuthin'." 

"Did he die?" asked the children, 
who now sat up in bed trembling with 
fear and excitement. 

"No, he jes saved hisself by 'mem- 
berin' dat dyah wuz a darnin' needle 
in his jacket, sis Milly allurs put 
dyah in case uv 'mergency, an' he 
took dat needle an' stuck it in de 
groun,' an' dyah cumed up a dark 
drizzlin' mis,' and' de lights went out, 
an' da vanquished away. Xex' morn- 
in' dyah wan' nuthin' dyah but a pile 
uv jelly. But what yo' chillun settin' 
up dyah fur? I don' believe yo' is 
thinkin' 'bout sleep. Wan' to come 
in mammy's lap? What fur? Yo* 
ain't gittin' skeered, is yo'? kase yo' 
knows I don' promise Miss Carline I 
ain't gwine tell yo' no mo' scary 
stories, an' I is boun' to keep my word. 
Well! come up heah in mammy's lap, 
an' go to sleep, an' don' be thinkin' 
'bout dem things no mo*, kaze cese 
people don' bleive in um, an' 
actuallv wouldn't if vo' tol' um 'bout 

"Cause it asn't really true, is it, 
mammy?" asked Sweety, nestling 
closer to Honey, in mammy's lap. 

"Miss Carline bleives :;. ered 

mammy, as she carefully folded a 
blanket around the children, "a::* I 
done heah her say dat de North j;: 
all we down South kaze da ain't 
'quainted wid us, an' don* know no 



better. Now keep yo footses under 
de blanket an' go right to sleep, 
mammy is heah." 

Honey and Sweety closed their eyes 
and were silent. Mammy heard the 
door open and looked up. 

"No, Miss Carline, da don' wan' yo.' 
Da is mos' 'sleep. Deed da ain't too 
big to set in my lap. I gwine hoi' 
dese chillun long as I ken, an' it ain't 
gwine spile um nuther." 

The door shut again, and mammy 
sat patiently watching and it was 
long after midnight before she could 
disengage the clasp of two pairs of 
little clinging arms. Then when she 
lovingly tucked them once more in 
bed she whispered: 

"De Lord knows my 'tentions wuz 
all fur de bes' an' I bows to His 

The Guardian 




With his head held high, 'Gene 
went on towards the home of Silas 
Moulton. He was half delirious with 
triumphant joy. His imagination over- 
leaped all bounds as his extravagant 
brain sprang from one notion to an- 
other. He was his own hero and his 
own audience, with, however, Julie al- 
ways smiling at him from the back- 
ground. He had now no hesitation 
in facing the Moultons. He neither 
feared nor cared what their attitude 
might be. Puffed up with his own 
egotism, he challenged the whole world 
to critcise his actions. He strutted 
to the front door and without stop- 
ping to knock walked in. The door 
to the sitting-room was open, and 
he found himself confronting a group 
of three. Mrs. Moulton was sitting 
rigid in a chair, with Julie at her feet. 
Silas stood by his wife, with his face 
white and his head half bowed. 

'Gene strode into the middle of the 
room and greeted them with a broad 

"Julie has told ye?" he inquired. 

The girl, at sound of his voice, sprang 
to her feet, her face as white as her 
mother's. The latter gave one glance 
at 'Gene's bloodshot eyes and shut out 
the sight with her hands. 
Begun in the February, 1912, number. 

"'Gene," cried Julie, "what's the 
matter with you ? Are you sick ? " 

Silas Moulton swept her aside. He 
studied the younger man a moment, 
as though to make sure of what he 
suspected; then with a look of sickened 
disgust he turned to his daughter. 

"Sick?" he choked. "He's drunk 
— drunk as a dog." 

'Gene clenched his fists, but Julie 
was instantly by his side. 

"No," she gasped. "That isn't 
possible. That isn't — " 

Then she turned away. With blood- 
less cheeks she shrank back — back 
into her father's arms. 

"If a man takes a single drink, they 
call him drunk round here," snarled 

Silas stepped forward. 

"Get out of my house," he com- 

" Easy. Easy there, " warned 'Gene. 
" If I go I take my wife with me. " 

"Your wife?" stormed Silas. "D'ye 
think a ring and a prayer-book makes 
her your wife?" 

"I reckon before the law it does," 
answered 'Gene. 

"What do I care for the law?" 
stormed Silas. "Why, before I'd see 
her your wife I'd see her dead. So 
help me God, I'd see her dead." 

Mrs. Moulton staggered to her feet 
and tottered to her husband's side. 

Copyright, 1912, Small, Maynard 3c Co. 



"Silas," she said quietly. 

"I mean it," he answered savagely. 

"Hush, father," broke in Julie. "It 
isn't all his fault. It's partly mine, 
too. I — " 

"Is it your fault, too, that he comes 
back here beastly drunk?" 

"Perhaps," answered Julie. "I 
oughtn't to have sent him away." 

"Who's drunk?" broke in 'Gene. 
"I've had a drink or two — yes. But 
I'm no more drunk than you are, and 
I tell ye the law's the law. I married 
the girl an hour ago and she's my wife. 
Ask her if she ain't. Ask Julie." 

Julie raised her head. 

"Yes, 'Gene," she answered, "I'm 
your wife." 

"There ye are," he exclaimed tri- 
umphantly. "There 't is from her 
own lips. Now I'll go if ye want me to, 
but she goes with me. I was plannin' 
a little visit with ye, but say the word 
and we go. I reckon my folks will 
take us in till I have a chance to look 

"No," trembled the girl, "we must- 
n't go from here. If you'll be patient. 
Dad, I'd rather stay with you a little." 

"Stay ! Of course ye'll stay. D'ye 
think I'd let ye cross the door by that 
man's side?" 

"You'll stay, p'tite," put in her 
mother. "It would kill us both if you 
went now." 

"I'm willin'," 'Gene put in good- 
naturedly. "But I tell ye now I 
won't stand for much more of that free 

He swaggered to a chair and sat 
down. Silas turned on his heel and 
tottered out. 

"You go too, mother," pleaded 
Julie in a whisper. "Let me talk with 
him a moment." 

But the mother clung frantically to 
her daughter's arm. 

"I can't, I can't," she trembled. 

"Just for a minute," insisted Julie. 

She led her mother to the door and 
closed it. Then she came halfway 
back to 'Gene. The latter rose to meet 

"Sit down, 'Gene," she said. 

He obeyed a new quality in her 

She paused a moment to catch her 
breath and then asked, as though with 
some faint hope that he might deny it : 

"'Gene — you have been drinkii 

"I told ye I had a drink or two," he 

Her lips did not quiver, but the pain 
shot through her eyes. 

"I — I didn't know you were that 
way," she said. 

"Seems to me you're makin' a lot 
of rumpus about nothin'," he an- 

"It wouldn't be so bad," she said, 
as though to herself, "it wouldn't be 
so bad if you hadn't done it to-day. 
You — you had been drinking before 
you met me first?" 

He shifted uneasily. But before 
her steady eyes he told the truth. 

"Yes," he answered. 

She clutched at the back of a chair, 
with her eyes turned away from him. 

"And we're married now, really 
married?" she asked. 

"What d'ye mean? Of course we 
are. Wasn't you present?" 

"I don't know," she trembled. "I 
suppose I was, but I can't remember 
very well." 

"Well you was," he informed her. 

"So vou're mv husband, 'Gene." 

"I reckon." 

"But it's my fault too," she put in, 
still talking as though to herself. "I 
mustn't forget that." 

He sprang to his feet. 

"You're talking as though ye was 
crazy, Julie. Why — n 

He started towards her, but she 
waved him back. 

"No, 'Gene — sit down." 

Once again he obeyed. He was g - 
ting drowsy. 

"'Gene," she said, "I am very tired. 
Won't you go upstairs and lie down? 
You — you can have my room. " 

"Now you're talkin' sense," he an- 
swered. "Where is it?" 

"I'll show you, 'Gene," she an- 

She led the way up the stairs, and he 
followed, groping for the wall. 



opened the door for him and stood 

"But you — " he began. 

She shrank away from him as from 
something unclean. 

"The room is yours," she said. "I 
will wait downstairs for you." 

'Gene Awakes 

GENE slept through the re- 
mainder of that day, through 
the night and far into the next 
morning. When he finally 
awoke in the dainty white-curtained 
room, it took him some time to piece 
together his scattered thoughts. He had 
to go way back to the morning when 
in the dawn he had felt the warm arms 
of Bella about his neck and had looked 
down into the gray eyes which burned 
from the shadowy face. From this point 
his brain leaped to the scene of yester- 
day afternoon, and he shrank back be- 
neath the coverlet. His cheeks burned 
with shame, and he felt here like an in- 
truder in some holy shrine. He closed 
his eyes and tried to sleep again in an 
effort to escape the present. This was 
impossible, and so he lay there weak 
and sick at heart and tried to plan some 
way of escape. If he could get out of 
the house unseen, he might make his 
way back to Boston and still retrieve 
himself with Bella. She would for- 
give him and he could explain his ab- 
sence on the ground of homesickness 
and a trip back to his mother. He 
plucked up courage at this, and getting 
out of bed began to dress. He was 
honestly contrite for the whole adven- 
ture. Had it been possible, he would 
have undone it all and returned to his 
job on the Ferry and settled down for 
the winter. It was Flint who was to 
blame — Flint who had offered him a 
drink in the first place. He per- 
suaded himself that from the begin- 
ning all he had intended to do was to 
visit his folks and Julie and then re- 

He finished dressing, but drew back 
startled at the sight of his face in the 
mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and 

heavy. He sickened at his own ap- 
pearance. He brushed his hair until 
it shone like gold, whisked his clothes 
until they were speckless, and still he 
looked like a tramp. From below he 
caught the aroma of hot coffee. If 
he only had a cup of that, it might 
straighten him out, but his forehead 
became moist with perspiration at 
thought of seeing Julie again. He had 
no defense left. He must take the 
mauling of those eyes, listen in silence 
to whatever she might say, and still 
realize the deeper horror of what he had 
done. He couldn't endure it. He must 
get out — get away. 

He swung to open the door and tip- 
toed down the stairs, feeling like a 
thief. The house was gruesomely 
quiet. It was as though some one 
were lying dead in one of the rooms. 
He paused at sound of his own creak- 
ing, and felt an impulse to shout and 
make a wild bolt for the door. Half- 
way he sat down and rubbed his big 
hand over his dry forehead in an agony 
of self-reproach. When he had partly 
recovered himself, he went on again. 
He reached the foot of the stairs and 
was stealing past the sitting-room door 
when he heard a voice. He saw Julie 
rise from a chair and come to meet him. 
She might have been the dead thing he 
had feared as far as her appearance 
went. Her dark-rimmed eyes stared 
dully out of a face as colorless as any- 
thing in shrouds. She was dressed in 
pure white, which made the effect even 

"Good-morning, 'Gene," she said. 

Even her voice was dead. 

He passed his hand over his eyes. 

"What time is it?" he asked. 

"It's almost eleven o'clock," she 
answered. " I have been waiting break- 
fast for you." 

"Waiting? For me?" he answered. 

"Yes, 'Gene." 

He turned away from her. 

"I don't want any breakfast. I 
don't want anything. I wish to God 
I was dead." 

She had come to the door. 

"But you aren't dead," she an- 



It sounded like the hopeless state- 
ment of one who had prayed for death. 

"Come," she said, "your coffee is 

She led him into the dining-room 
and showed him his place. She went 
out into the kitchen, and soon returned 
with the coffee, some hot biscuits, and 
his eggs. She broke the eggs for him 
and then took her seat opposite him 
and poured his coffee. He didn't dare 
to look at her while she was doing these 
things, but kept his head bowed and 
his eyes on his plate. When she handed 
him his cup, he managed to say: 

"You're mighty good, Julie." 

She did not answer, but he could feel 
her eyes upon him. Once during the 
meal he heard the quick intake of her 

"Julie," he said, "I've half a mind to 
clear out and leave ye." 

"What good would that do?" she 

"Then I wouldn't bother ye." 

"If you ran off, you would bother 
me more than ever," she replied. 

He glanced up. 

"Then ye want me to stay — spite of 

"You must stay — in spite of every- 

" I could go back to sea. " 

"And leave me here?" 

"Ye wouldn't want to go with me, 
w r ould ye?" 

"No," she answered, "but I would 
have to go. " 

" Ye would ? Ye mean ye would go? " 

"'Gene," she said, "do you under- 
stand that yesterday I married you?" 

"Yes," he groaned. "But—" 

"That I took oath to cling to you 
for better and for worse?" she inter- 
rupted. "We can't change that, can 

"I s'pose not," he answered. 

"Then," she said, "if you go I must 
go with you. But I don't want vou to 


"It won't be very pleasant here, I 
reckon, " he growled. 

"It isn't going to be very pleasant 
anywhere, 'Gene. But if you stay 
here, it seems to me you can make it 

better. It seems to me ;. 
make it better." 

"How?" he asked. 

She studied him a moment and i'.. 

"You'll have to work that out for 

"If ye could forgive me and f6l 
yesterday — " he began* 

"If you could make me forgive you 
and forget yesterday!" she cried. 

"I will, Julie," he answered • 
"I will if ye'll give me a chai. 

A bit of color returned to her ch< i 

" You'll even have to make your I 
chances," she answered. 

"But ye'll let me try? 1 be asked. 

"If only you would try!" 

He made his feet and hurried to 
side but she warned him off. 

"No," she said. "You mu 
touch me — you mustn't touch me 
again for a alon^ while.'' 

He resented the rebuff. 

"There, ye see. Ye won't give a 
man a show." 

"I — I can't let you touch me, 
'Gene," she insisted, half in apolog] , 

" And then ye say you're my wife." 

She shuddered at this. 

"And you're my husband," she nod- 
ded. "But I can't let you touch : 

Her aloofness inflamed him. He 
tried to seize her as he used to dc. 
she fought free of him. With a chair 
between them she faced him indig- 

"Listen," she said. "You mustn't 
ever try to do that again. You don't 
know how near I am to hating you." 

"Then what was ye talkin' about a 
minute ago?" 

"I meant every word I said. I 
mean that I am willing to let you make 
me feel different. But that's all I can 
do. Last night I thought it out: 
will have my room, and I will have the 
spare room next to mother's. W e 
live here and you will try to do better. 
And no one must know; not a soul D 
know/Gene. I don't want any one to 
think ill of you, because that w 
make it all the harder for you. So. if 
you will do that and try, then some 
dav God will let us forget. *' 



" In a year or two ? " he frowned. 

"I don't know," she answered 
wearily. "It seems now as though it 
would take longer." 

He grew stubborn. Her cold in- 
different attitude irritated him. And 
yet it held him too. This was a new 
Julie, but none the less a beautiful 
Julie. He had never so desired her as 
at this moment. 

"I don't have to wait for you. 
You're mine now. You're my wife. " 

With a quick step towards her he 
seized her arm. 

"I love you and you're mine," he 
cried passionately. 

" 'Gene ! " she warned. 

But he forced her nearer to him and 
kissed her hair. She shivered the 
length of her delicate young body. She 
fought him like a tigress, while he 
laughed at her struggles. But in the 
end she squirmed free and running 
towards the kitchen door turned and 
faced him with horror. 

"Now," she choked, "now you've 
spoiled it all." 

"You're my wife," he answered stub- 

The words seemed to break even 
her present passion. Her head fell and 
she began to sob. 'Gene was quickly 
sympathetic, and the sight moved him 
more to shame than her words had 

"I couldn't help it," he muttered. 
"Don't cry." 

"You've spoiled everything," she 

She groped for the door and stum- 
bled out, leaving him staring in baf- 
fled shame and anger. 


The Guardian 

WITH still five miles of the fif- 
teen to walk before he 
reached the home of Julie, 
Nat met Al Foley, who was 
exercising his mare Belle Marie. 
Nat never saw these two together 
the fine blooded horse clean and deli- 
cate as a woman in all her parts and the 
weak-faced man with pimply face, but 

what he wondered why the mare didn't 
take the bit in her teeth and end it. 
Foley drew the sensitive beast to a 
standstill with a vicious jerk of the 
reins, and offered Nat a seat by his 
side in the sulky. Nat shook his 
head. In addition to the aversion he 
felt to the driver, he had no intention 
of imposing his weight upon the mare. 
He stopped to stroke her sleek neck, 
and she in response to the big tender 
hand brushed his ear with her velvet 

"Didn't know but what ye might be 
in a hurry," suggested Foley with a 
significant leer. 

The attentions of Nat to Julie Moul- 
ton were known to all the world. 

"No," answered Nat. 

"I s'pose, " said Foley, "you're on 
your way to pay yer respects to the 
young couple." 

"No," answered Nat, "I'm going 
to see Julie Moulton." 

Foley drew a deep breath. He 
could scarcely believe in the good luck 
which had selected him as the bearer 
of the news. 

"Ye don't mean to say ye ain't 
heern?" he drawled. 

"Heard what?" 

"That she and 'Gene is married — • 
married yesterday ? " 


"She," interrupted Foley gayly. 
"Julie and yer brother 'Gene. " 

Foley shrank back from the heavy 
hand which suddenly fell upon his 
shoulder. The grip and the white face 
and the burning eyes searching his 
soul for the truth made him wince. He 
felt himself lifted from the sulky to the 
ground, where he was held at arm's 
length. Said Nat: 

"Foley, if you have lied God help 
you ! If you haven't — if you haven't, 
Foley, then God help me!" 

Nat stepped into the sulky, lifted 
the reins, and Belle Marie in surprised 
response to the new touch took the 
road as though winged. Mile after 
mile she sped on with the joy of the 
freed thing, and obeying the reins drew 
up in the yard of the little white house 
with a joyful whinny. Nat tossed the 



reins over her back and leaped to the 
ground. He strode to the front door 
and brought the knocker down with a 
report that rang through the house like 
a pistol-shot. It was Silas Moulton 
who answered it. Heavy-eyed, he 

"Have you heard?" 

"Then it's true?" demanded Nat. 

Silas Moulton nodded and ushered 
him in as into a house of death. The 
father knew the boy as well as the 
brother knew him, and both knew 
there was in him little of brave good. 
He had the strength of an ox, but the 
heart of a fallow deer. He was well 
enough on the outside, but all wrong 
within — all wrong within. 

When Nat Page came into the 
darkened parlor where Julie sat, he 
saw that the door on the opposite side 
of the room was just closing. He 
caught the creak of a board beyond, 
and knew that the feet which moved 
so stealthily away must be heavy, be- 
cause the girl had often laughed at the 
way he himself made the floor boards 
creak which remained silent beneath 
the tread of herself and her father. 
She rose to meet him with her cheeks 
flushed but her head well up. She looked 
now more like a mother brought to ha}* 
in defense of her young than a bride. 
Her eyes were tender, almost plead- 
ing, while her attitude was defiant. As 
he came nearer to her she advanced to 
meet him, trying hard to smile. 

"Nat," she said, "you have come 
to wish me happiness?" 

For a moment he made no reply, 
confused by the whole situation, like 
an untamed lion crouching before the 
first stinging cut of a trainer's whip. 
The only thing of which he was con- 
scious was of his great love for her 
which seemed to persist after it should 

"You have come to wish me hap- 
piness, Nat?" she repeated. 

"From the first time I saw you I 
have wished you nothing else," he 

"And now?" she asked, as though 
she must have a direct response to her 

"Now," he answered steadily? 
"more than ever before." 

For a moment the tenderest 6mile 
he had ever seen hovered about her 
lips and then, dumbly, she held out 
her hand. 

He took it, and as he felt her warm 
pulse beat against his palm the world 
swam for a moment. It seemed that 
even then he had a right to her. 
was some terrible mistake. It could 
not be that in so brief a time she had 
been snatched from him forever. 

"Julie, " he asked again, 4 ' is it tin 

" It is true," she answered. 

Then his vision cleared, as it always 
did at the big crises <>i his life, and he- 
dropped her hand. He saw that there 
was nothing to be done here. He 
forced a smile, because he would not 
hurt her even with the pain of his own 

"Well," he said, "then I guess I'll 
be going. M 

His words sounded so final that she 
thrust out her hand and placed it on 
his arm. 

" You will come and see me often 

He considered a moment. It was 
difficult to refuse her anything, but at 
present this seemed an impossible 
thing to promise. 

"I go into camp next week," he an- 

"Oh, but— " 

She checked herself. 

"I had forgotten. I wish you luck 
in your business." 

"Thanks," he answered. 

Because he stood before her so 
sturdily and without complaint, be- 
cause he neither questioned her right 
of action nor whined over the past, be- 
cause even now he sought not his own 
happiness but hers, Julie with a pain 
in her throat came to a new knowl- 
edge of what a man may be. Her 
head dropped and her breath came fast. 

He turned to go, but halfway to the 
door stopped. 

"If ever you should need me, I will 
come," he said. 

At that she raised her head proudly. 

"Why should I need you?" she 



"If I can help it, you won't," he 

He walked steadily because he knew 
exactly what was before him to do. As 
he passed through the kitchen, he 
grasped Silas by the hand and placed 
his other on the drooping shoulders of 
the mother. 

"I have wished Julie happiness," he 
said. "I guess this will turn out better 
than you think." 

" If it had only been you, " exclaimed 
the mother, looking up. 

Nat turned away his head. 

"You mustn't talk like that," he 

Silas' eyes leaped to the clenched 
jaw of the young man, and with sud- 
den understanding he whispered: 

"He's out there — in the barn." 

"I know," nodded Nat. "I shall 
see him and wish him happiness too. " 

Nat found the big barn door half 
open, but as he entered he could see 
little because of the heat in his eyes. 
He stood there helpless, listening to the 
rattle of the halter chains about him, to 
the low bleat of greeting from the ever 
hungry sheep, to the restless moo of 
the kine. Presently the shadows be- 
gan to dissolve, and he made out the 
bulging masses of hay beneath the 
cobwebbed windows under the eaves, 
then the boarding below, then the feed- 
box to the right, and near the box the 
outline of a man. Here his eyes rested. 
He saw that it was 'Gene. The latter 
was leaning against an upright with a 
pitchfork within easy reach. 

Nat waited until he could see clearly, 
for he was not fool enough to take 
chances on being speared. He had too 
much in hand for that. He studied 
his brother's face with curious interest. 
The boy looked older than when he left, 
but he had lost much of his freshness. 
It was the age of the city he showed 
and not the age of the hills. He seemed 
heavier and hardier, and Nat was glad 
of that. 'Gene would need his strength. 
Studying him more keenly, Nat could 
see no gain in the deeper strength; the 
eyes were still shifty and the mouth 
loose. Yet over and over to himself 
Nat declared there must be something 

which had attracted the girl, something 
which he himself must have missed! He 
must cling to this fact or the tempta- 
tion to batter down the man would 
overcome him. So long as he was able 
to reason, he realized that this course 
would do little good; he could not 
batter down with the man Julie's love 
for him. It was probable, unless 
'Gene had greatly changed, that if al- 
lowed to go on in his own way he 
might accomplish this himself. But 
neither would that do. He might by 
this course kill the woman too. Nat 
knew how deeply she must love to have 
been so blinded to the true nature of 
the man which even he had read since 
they were boys together. He knew 
her contempt of weakness, of hypoc- 
risy, and had heard her comments 
upon these same flaws in other men. 
Even if 'Gene had deceived her by ly- 
ing, why, that made no difference now. 
The point was that the man must be 
made to live up to her ideal of him. 
That was what remained for Nat him- 
self to accomplish. That and nothing 

He found his voice. 

"'Gene," he began, "they tell me 
that you are married to Julie Moulton." 

"They tell you right, Nat," an- 
swered 'Gene. 

It was like a fresh blow to hear it 
grom 'Gene's lips. 

"You have a good wife, 'Gene," he 

"I'm glad ye like her," sneered 

It was a full minute before Nat 
trusted himself to speak again. 

"And now that you have a wife, 
what are you goin' to do ? " 

"That's my business." 

" Have you any money ? " 

'Gene squinted a moment at his 
brother's eyes to make out the intent 
of that question. Then he answered: 

" Have ye any to lend ? " 

"If ye need it," answered Nat. 

Still 'Gene hesitated, but this was 
too good an opportunity to miss. ^ 

"Then," said 'Gene, "if ye feel like 
doin' a favor, ye might lend me a 



"I will lend you all I have," Nat 
answered promptly. "And after that 
what are you goin' to do ? " 

"I don't know just yet," answered 

"You haven't any job?" 

"I'm goin' to look around a little," 
'Gene parried. 

Nat was breathing more heavily, but 
he was still in good control of himself. 

"No need of that," he said. "I'll 
give ye a job." 

"What is your job?" asked 'Gene 

"In the woods. I've taken a con- 
tract for some pine on Eagle." 

"So?" queried 'Gene indifferently. 

" Ye'll begin next week — Monday. " 


To tell the truth, 'Gene had no great 
relish for such a job. He objected to 
the hardship involved, and he ob- 
jected to remaining so closely under 
Nat's eyes. Then, again, he was very 
comfortable where he was for the 

"I reckon I can pull 'long without 
that kind of a job," he replied. 

For a second Nat watched him. 
Then he slipped his leash. With a 
quick run in he sent the pitchfork fly- 
ing across the barn with a swift side 
kick of his foot. This brought him 
face to face with his brother, but he 
still pressed his two clenched fists close 
to his side. 

"Good God!" he panted; "but ye 
will take that job. Ye'll come into 
camp at five o'clock a week from next 
Monday morning and before spring Ell 
make a man of ye." 

Though Nat made no motion to 
strike, 'Gene raised his arm above his 
eyes with a startled cry. 


"Not till I've made a man of ye," 
ran on Nat. "She thinks she mar- 
ried a man, and now she's goin' to 
have a man. I don't know how ye've 
made her believe in you, 'Gene, but 
ye've done it. Maybe there's good 
in ye I don't see — maybe there is. 
I'd trust the girl to see straight in most 
things and I ought to trust her now. 
But, right or wrong, she isn't goin' to 

see any different. You're goin' ft 
what she thinks ye a." 

alk straight and talk straight and 
act straight. You're goin' to be a man 
and show folks she married a man." 

( <'-ne had lowered his arm. 

"What blamed business is th: 
yourn?" he demanded sulkily. 

"I'm makin' it my business," an- 
swered Nat. 

'Gene's eyes narrowed. Then he 

"I see. Kind of liked her yourself, 
didn't ye?" 

"Yes," answered Nat. 

"An' now ye're kinder sore?" 

"If ye mean by that it hurts, I'll an- 
swer ye fair; it does." 

"Well," sneered 'Gene, plucking up 
courage, "she's mine now. Don't for- 
get tl 

With the cry of a wounded animal 
Nat rushed in. But 'Gene was ready 
and met him with a blow on the jaw. 
He might as well have leveled his fist 
atone of the oak uprights. Nat never 
paused, but with a heavy blow from 
the shoulder sent 'Gene staggering 
into the middle of the barn floor. There 
he waited for his brother to recover. 
But the latter, shielding his face with 
an arm, only backed ofl. 

"Come on," called Nat, "come on, 
for it's like that Ell do. brother or not; 
it's like that Ell do until ye get enough 
of her in your heart to stand up and 
fight me off." 

He followed after 'Gene and struck 
him once more. 

"Ye've got the size and strength of 
a man," he cried. "Why don't ye 
use it like a man? Ye'll need it; by 
the good God, ye'll need it before the 
spring comes." 

"Quit!" called 'Gene. 

Nat seized him by the shoulder and 
tried again to rouse him. He couldn't 
maul a man who wouldn't fight, and 
yet he knew from the strength of that 
first blow that the boy had the brawn 
in him. 

"Fight!" he choked. "Stand up 
and fight!" 

Writhing beneath the sting of be- 
ing- thus man-handled, 'Gene snatc 



a hungry look at the pitchfork. Nat 
waited in eager hope that he would 
come back at him. Even a whipping at 
'Gene's hand would have been a wel- 
come relief from watching the husband 
of Julie cow back like a frightened 
dog. But it was no use. The boy 
had the heart of a fallow deer. 

"Then," concluded Nat, "if ye 
won't fight, ye'll come into camp a 
week from next Monday morning — 
at five o'clock. D'ye hear?" 

" I ain't deaf, " 'Gene retorted feebly. 

"An' if ye don't come, I'll find ye 
and bring ye — I'll find ye if I have to 
go to Hell to find ye. For we'll make 
a man of ye yet, 'Gene." 

'Gene made no answer. 

"Tell me when ye're comin'," com- 
manded Nat. 

"At five o'clock a week from Mon- 
day," growled 'Gene. 

"And ye'd better start early 'cause 
it's a long walk from here. And if ye 
aren't there at five-thirty, I start back 
here to St. Croix to find ye. " 

Nat turned and walked out of the 
barn. He took the road home and 
never stopped until he reached the 
house on the crest of the hill. He 
opened the door and went in. What 
happened there is the secret of a man's 
soul and shall remain a secret. 


The Making of a Man 

THE snow came early that fall, 
and in four days covered the 
ground a foot and a half deep. 
Every inch of it added a chance 
to the success of Nat's venture. He 
had been in the heart of his pine for a 
week with Bartineau and half a dozen 
others, making preparations for the 
main crew, which was due on Monday. 
They had erected a camp and a cook- 
house, and a barn for the horses, and 
had blazed the roads they would need to 
the river at the foot of the mountain. 
In all this Nat had done the work of 
four men. He was often up at three 
in the morning and toiled until he had 
only strength enough to drag his 
heavy feet to his bunk at night. 

"Sacre!" complained Bartineau. 
" We have time enough. " 

"Too much time," answered Nat. 

"Then what the devil — " 

Nat placed his hand on Bartineau's 
shoulder. Heavy-eyed, he looked into 
the rough misshapen face of his friend. 

"Pierre," he said, "I can't sleep." 

"And your skin burns and you have 
little spots all over you?" questioned 
Pierre eagerly. 

"No," smiled Nat; "it isn't the 

Pierre looked disappointed. 

"If only you would get that and let 
me pay you back — " 

"No, it isn't the smallpox," re- 
peated Nat. 

But nevertheless Pierre watched him 
closely until he saw the amount of 
work Nat was doing. Then he shook 
his head disappointedly. A man with 
the smallpox could not lift a load that 
a horse couldn't budge. 

Bartineau was in charge of the stable. 
It was a position of responsibility 
second only to Nat's. Men and 
horses work together in the woods. 
Cripple one and you cripple the other. 
Bartineau had his opinions about the 
superiority of the society of horses to 
that of men. He slept in the barn as 
a matter of preference, and when he 
had a pipe to smoke, smoked it there. 
So too he aired all his opinions to his 
horses except when he had anything to 
say against a man, and then he said it 
to his face. 

On the Monday morning that his 
crew of ten men arrived, Nat sat on 
the sill of the barn by the side of Bar- 
tineau. It was half-past four and the 
horses had eaten their oats and were 
now munching the last few wisps of 
hay in their cribs. Bartineau was 
watching Nat's face in the light of the 
lantern by his side. The latter was 
staring down the wood-road fading off 
into the sentinel pines. 

"Sacre I" Pierre finally exploded. 
" What do you see — a loup garou ? " 

"I'm waiting for another man," an- 
swered Nat. 

"Eh? But they are all here." 

Bartineau counted them off on his 
thick stubby fingers. 



" Stevens, Ladoux, Campbell, Trum- 
bull, Allen, Martin, Corbeau, Mullen, 
Clancy and Red George. Red George 
came an hour ago." 

"There is one more," answered Nat. 


"'Gene Page," said Nat. 

"I do not know this 'Gene Page." 

"He is my brother." 

"Tiens — a good man then." 

"Not a good man yet," answered 
Nat. "But before spring perhaps we'll 
make a good man of him." 

From the bottom of his pocket Bar- 
tineau scraped together some loose bits 
of tobacco, which he placed in the palm 
of his left hand. He produced an old 
clay pipe, and sticking this into a cor- 
ner of his mouth rolled his tobacco, 
palms together. 

"Pierre," said Nat, "I shall put him 
to work here with you. " 

Bartineau glanced up quickly. 

"I need no one here," he answered 

"Use him any way you will and for- 
get that he's any brother of mine," 
said Nat, 


Nat glanced at his watch. It was a 
quarter of five. If 'Gene did not ar- 
rive within fifteen minutes, it meant a 
walk of twenty miles back so St. 
Croix and from there — God knows 
where. But if he found the boy gone 
to Rio de Janeiro again, there he would 
follow him. He would follow him 
around the world and back again, and 
this pine on Eagle could go to the devil. 

In the shack to the right there was a 
great rattle of tin dishes and the growl- 
ing early morning talk of the men. The 
smell of strong coffee scented the cold 

"Had your grub?" questioned Nat. 

"And you — is it that you have 

"Not yet." 

His eyes were again trying to pierce 
the heavy shadows which clotted the 
snow. He listened, but heard no 
sound. He recalled his talk with 'Gene 
and made sure that he had made no 
mistake in the day or time. This 
brought his thoughts back again to 
Julie, who for a week now had been a 

wife. He had not seen her since the 
day he left her, but at times he felt as 
though he should go mad with the 
yearning to look upon her face again. 
The desire was an acute pain which 
gnawed at his heart, choked him in the 
throat, and blinded his eyes. It came 
at night and it came in the day, and 
the fight against it left him limp. And 
yet, though she was the cause of it, he 
could in no wise put blame upon her. 
There was neither anger nor jea. 
in his heart, neither r regret. 

He knew that Julie saw 'Gene a 
mother saw 'Gene — fair to look upon, 
big of body, ready and pleasar.' f 
tongue. So women had 
since he was a small boy and seen noth- 
ing else of him. None of them I 
had occasion to watch him in a man 
crisis, for even at school, when Trouble 
threatened, he was bold enoug 
the petticoats and never ran until the 
latter were out of Bight. But men 
knew him instinctively, even as Silas 
did, who had seen little of him. 

Once again Nat glanced at his 
watch. It lacked five minutes of five. 
He rose to his feet and took up his belt 
a notch. Then in the yellow all* 
light made by the latern he saw the 
form of a man emerge from the ;. 
and step heavily towards the camp. 
Nat went forward to meet him. 

"'Gene," he called. 

The latter wheeled in his tracks as 
suddenly as though expecting a blow. 

"I've been waitin' grub for ye," 
said Nat. 

"It's you. is it?" growled 'Gene. 

He came nearer. 

"See here, Nat," he began. "I jus' 
came up to tell ye I had another job in 
the village." 

"Ye have a job here," answered Nat. 

"I've got a better one." 

"How much?" 

"Ten dollars a week." 

"I'll pay ye fifteen." 

"It isn't so much the money — ** 
answered 'Gene. 

"What is it, then?" 

"Well, ye see. Julie— " 

At the name Nat stiffened. 

"Did she say she didn't want ye to 
work for me?" 



"Not exactly, but — well, it's rather 
tough havin' to be away from home 
so much." 

"Ye can go back every Saturday." 

"Back to St. Croix?" 

"Back to St. Croix." 



'Gene laughed sulkily. 

"I see myself," he answered. "It 
took me four hours to make it this 

Nat frowned. The man would al- 
low a four hours' walk to stand be- 
tween him and Julie! He himself 
would walk twenty-four for just a sight 
of her. In disgust Nat turned away. 

"Here's Bartineau," he called over 
his shoulder. "Ye'll help him with 
the horses." 

"I'll be damned if I will," sputtered 

Nat turned back. He walked to his 
brother's side. 

"Get into the barn," he called as he 
would to a dog. 

'Gene squared his shoulders. The 
sight of this was like balm to Nat. He 
waited hopefully. But in the end 
'Gene slinked past to the side of Bar- 

In the stable that morning 'Gene 
gave vent to his wrath on the horses. 
He was leading out Nat's own team 
when the animals, becoming frightened 
at a moving shadow, crowded back 
upon him. He had a whip in his hand 
and brought it down sharply across the 
quivering flanks of the nearer one. 
It was at this point that some demon 
sprang out of the dark and gripping his 
throat held on. For a moment 'Gene 
thought it was an animal. He could 
see little, and the breathing was not 
that of a man. Nat freed him from 
Bartineau at the point where things 
swam black before 'Genes' bulging 
eyes and he seemed about to die. 

"Sacre!" cried Bartineau, straining 
towards the two. "If ever again that 
dog of a man comes into this barn — " 

"I saw," interrupted Nat, "but 
you came at him in the dark. That — 
that is why he did not fight better. 
This is the husband of Julie Moulton." 

Nat paused for breath. The words 
choked off his wind as though Bartineau 
had in turn seized him by the throat. 

"You came at him in the dark," 
continued Nat. "In fair fight I do 
not know. This is the husband of 
Julie Moulton." 

"Eh?" snapped Bartineau. "I care 
not whose husband he is. I care not 
whose brother he is. I will fight him 

He stepped back and squared his 
shoulders and lowered his head. Nat 
placed a hand upon his arm. 

"To-night," he said quietly. "To- 
day I need you both." 

All that day Nat kept the men in 
sight for fear of the axes. With axes, 
a fight is a serious affair. But though 
the two exchanged ugly glances, they 
worked on without further conflict — 
Bartineau in stolid silence and 'Gene 
with occasional overtures of peace. 
'Gene might as well have talked to a 
hungry gray wolf. With the horses 
out of the barn, Nat set both Batrineau 
and 'Gene at work on the logs. The 
latter could lift as much as two men, 
and Nat was glad that several of the 
crew had a chance to see this. He 
would give every man in camp this 
chance before he was done. 

On the whole, Nat was sorry that a 
crisis had been reached so soon, for he 
had hoped for time in which to train 
his brother a little. If the latter were 
defeated in this first battle, it might 
take away much of his scant courage 
and this would make it go harder with 
him in later contests. On the other 
hand, if he won, then this would make 
a fine beginning. It would put heart 
into him. 

Twice during the day Nat spoke 
words of warning to 'Gene. 

" Take it easy," he advised. " Don't 
use up too much of your strength." 

Then in fairness he told Pierre Bar- 
tineau what he had told 'Gene. 

"It was well said," was all that Bar- 
tineau answered. 

That night before dinner Nat spoke 

"Do not eat too much; enough, but 
not too much." 



With the dark and the tension of the 
day and the face of Bartineau scowling 
at him for twelve hours, 'Gene was 
growing uneasy. It was one thing to 
fight in the heat of the moment and an- 
other to go' at it deliberately. He had 
never fought such a fight in his life. 

"Why in hell should I fight the Can- 
nuck?" demanded 'Gene. "I'm not 
holdin' any grudge ag'in him." 

"You," answered Nat, "are the hus- 
band of Julie Moulton. That is why. 
The husband of Julie Moulton must 
fear no man. You have much fighting 
before you until in the end you fight me." 
"Don't — don't ye go too far," cried 

"As soon as ye fight off me, that will 
be the end," explained Nat. " Ye have 
only to speak the word when ye want 
to try." 

"You're two years older than me," 
whined 'Gene, falling back upon a 
boyhood argument. 

"Yes," admitted Nat. "But now 
you're man-size. If you're man enough 
to marry Julie, ye've got to be man 
enough to fight me. I'd ask the same 
of any one in the world who married 

"You're just mad cause ye got left," 
snapped 'Gene. 
Nat turned white. 
"Good God!" he exclaimed. "If I 
was mad — I'd — I'd kill ye." 

'Gene shrank back and Nat soon re- 
gained his self-control. 

"But I'm not mad," he explained 
more quietly. "Now listen. Barti- 
neau has a trick of running in under 
the arms. Look out for that. He 
has a grip that never lets go. He is 
slower on his feet than you. Keep 
him moving. He is tough in the body; 
you will do more with one good blow 
under the chin than with twenty on the 

The instructions were given with 
brutal calmness. Nat caught a shifty 
look in 'Gene's eyes, which meant but 
one thing, a passion for escape. His 
heart grew bitter and he seized his 
brother's arm. 

"Husband of Julie," he said, "if ye 
do not beat him to-dav, ye must try 

again to-morrow. So until y 

him. if yt run — then I will follow. 
Don't look around any mon 
your mind on what you've got to 

'1 hat night after supper Nat rose 
from his place at the table and made a 
speech. It was a wise speech for one 
of his age, 

"Men," he said, "I don't believe in 
fighting in camp, because livin' here 
together the fighting grows. But when 
something na come to a fi. 

want to see the fight done fair and done 
in the open. It looks like a bad be- 
ginning to start a row on the first day, 
but this time I happened to be 'round 
when it started, and it looks to me as 
though there was just one wa 
settle it. 'Gene Page, here, the husband 
of Julie Moulton, struck hi 
Pierre Bartineau saw him and struck 
'Gene Page. I stopped the fight and told 
the men they could finish it to-i. 
So here the}- are, and if ye'll clear a 
the tables, we'll see an end I it." 

A speech was nc\ ted with 

a noisier demonstration of applause. 
Though much of this was due to a de- 
sire to witness a good bout, there was 
much also that expressed an apprecia- 
tion of the rough justice and fairness 
of the proposition. In a few minutes 
the tables had been swung to one side 
and the men had gathered in a generous 
circle. Nat fastened a nail to the 
ceiling and suspended from it a large 
lantern in order to give as much light 
as possible. Then he called upon 
Pierre Bartineau, who sprang forward 
eagerly. Then he called upon 'Gene 
Page, who came shiftily. Instantly Bar- 
tineau sprang for his grip below the 
arms, but 'Gene dodged and. rushing. 
struck a blow that landed between Bar- 
tineau's eyes. That was the begin- 
ning, but the end did not come until 
forty minutes later. Both men were 
sore bruised and battered, and 'Gene 
by then had had enough. In sheer des- 
peration he made a final heavy, lunging 
blow. It took Bartineau once more be- 
tween the eyes and the latter dropr 
Nat counted off ten seconds and then. 
proudly lifting his head, he made the 



"Men, the fight is won by 'Gene 
Page, the husband of Julie Moulton." 

Half blinded and dazed though he 
was, 'Gene strutted into the group of 
men who were noisily applauding him, 
while Nat crossed to the side of Pierre 
Bartineau. The latter opened his eyes 
again to consciousness. 

Nat gripped his hand and helped 
him to his feet. 

"Mon Dieu," stammered Bartineau. 
"I didn't think he had it in him." 

"Ye don't know him,"- answered 
Nat. "But you made a brave fight, 

Art Interests 

UNUSUAL catholicity presided 
over the selection of pic- 
tures of Swedish, Norwe- 
gian and Danish artists ex- 
hibited in a number of American cities, 
under the auspices of the American 
Scandinavian Society, and the patron- 
age of his majesty, Gustav V, king 
of Sweden; his majesty, Christian X, 
king of Denmark, and his majesty, 
Haakon VII, king of Nowray.* 

Many schools with widely divergent 
art ideals are represented in the ex- 
hibition. Courage as well as democ- 
racy and catholicity characterizes the 
selection. Neither timidity nor truck- 
ling to public opinion has stood in the 
way of the recognition of merit. One 
catches refreshing glimpses of an 
artist community not devoid of cliques, 
for that would be too much to expect, 
but at least not clique-ridden as to its 
ultimate judgment. 

This is the visitor's first thought 
as he glances about the well-filled walls 
of the renaissance room of the Boston 
Art Museum, where these canvasses 
are hung. 

The second thought is that the 
diversity is unified by a racial quality 
that justifies the title of "Scandina- 
vian" applied by the exhibitors to the 
work of artists of three countries. 
This quality is well expressed by a word 
used in the descriptive text of the very 
excellent catalogue. The pictures have 
a blond atmosphere. 

The third and sober last thought 
follows a closer study of the individual 
pictures. Slowly and inevitably it is 
borne in upon the unprejudiced ob- 
server that, while the enthusiasm and 
verve lies in the eager modernism of 

£ *The American-Scandinavian Society was es- 
tablished "to foster the knowledge of Scandi- 
navian culture " in America. It administers an 
endowment of more than $500,000, given by 
the late Neil Poulson. 


some of the work, the best pictures are 
those in which this new life has not 
extinguished the solid traditions. 

Those pictures which are touched 
with the futurist infection, exhibit the 
morbid extravagance which charac- 
terizes that most impudent form which 
decadence has yet assumed. 

The most gracious work in the ex- 
hibition is that of Bruno Andreas 
Liljefois, the Swedish animal painter, 
although the work of H. R. H. Prince 
Eugen of Sweden, is pervaded with 
much of the same poetic mood — the 
more mellow aspects of the northern 
twilight. The Boston Art Museum 
should not fail to secure one of Prince 
Eugen's pictures. The most novel 
work exhibited is that of Gustav 
Adolf Fjaestad, the Swedish land- 
scapist, the decorative spirit of whose 
studies of snow and running water 
open new truth. Andreas Leonard Zorn 
appears to be the most accomplished 
technician of the Swedish group. 

The Danish section was particularly 
notable for its intensely modern spirit. 

Jens Willunisen's "The Mountain 
Climber," almost belligerent in its 
modernism, is one of the very strong 
pictures of the exhibition. The por- 
trait of "My Mother," by Edward 
Weihe, is another compelling work, 
provoking immediate sympathetic 
comprehension. The "Four Art:- 
by Sigurd Swane, is a very thoughtful 

In the Norwegian section the work 
of Christian Krohg and Henvik Lund 
stand out strikingly. The junior 
Krohg seems hopelessly touched with 
French modernism. In fact, it may 
be said of most of the Norwegian 
paintings that they have bowed the 
knee to Paris to a more marked extent 
than their brother Scandinavians. 
But the two artists mentioned above 



are strong enough not to be over- 
whelmed by any method. 

The one woman artist to exhibit in 
this collection is Anna Boberg, of Stock- 
holm. She renders with power and 
facility the picturesque features of a 
chosen district. Her paintings may 
be characterized as elaborated sketches. 

Reviewing the exhibition as a whole, 
one is impressed with the youth and 
vitality of the work. 

It is very pleasant to turn aside 
to a little incident of local art interest 
that is not without instruction. I 
refer to the decided interest shown in 
the exhibition, at the City Club, of the 
water-colors of Mr. H. Louis Gleason. 
The subjects were taken from New 

England rural landscape. They were 
realistically produced, an effort being 
made to faithfully convey not only 
the "impression," but the details of 
local scenes. And this effort met with 
a prompt appreciation from Mr. 
Average Man, I say there is a lesson 
in the incident. Modern art has 
gone so far in the evolution and 
devolution of impressionism and past- 
impressionism, that is has lost sight 
of the great ministry of art to human 
enjoyment in the simple reproduction 
of that which concerns our daily life. 

Mr. Gleason is a young man, and 
he has chosen a very interesting field. 
We wish him a full measure of merited 



Grandmother's Cook Book 

By the New England Magazine Cooking Club 

An excellent and very simple wa\ to 
serve eggs is the following: 

Eggs Sur Le Plat 

Melt butter on a stone china saucer 
or plate. Break the eggs carefully 
into the dish, — one egg if a saucer 
be used, not more than three small 
or two large eggs for a plate. Dust 
lightly with salt and pepper and put 
on the top of the stove until the whites 
are well set. Serve in the dish in 
which they are baked. 

Cooked in this way they are an 
appetizing change for the person who 
is fond of them, but who tires of the 
inevitable boiled or dropped egg. 

Baked Omelet 

Beat the yolks of six eggs and add 
the whites of three eggs beaten very 
light; add salt and pepper to taste. 
Mix a tablespoonful of flour in a cup 
of milk and mix all well. Pour into 
well-buttered pan and put into a hot 
oven; when thick pour over it the 
whites of the other three eggs beaten 
very light; then brown nicely without 
allowing the top to become crusted. 

Serve immediately. 

For an ill or convalescent person 
the flavor of meat extract is often 


unpleasant. Try adding I 
of boiling milk. I the 

taste of the extract. A small quan- 
tity of this mixture taken when I 
is a feeling of exhaustion will 
prove an admirable \ c. 

Lemon Sponge Pn 

One lemon. 1 CUJ 
2 teaspoons flour, 1 cup milk. 1 table- 
spoon butter. Cream butter and 
sugar. Add yolks of the egg . g 
rind of the lemon and the lemon juice. 
Then add the flour and the cupful of 
milk. Lastly, stir in the stiffly wh : .: 
whites of the eggs. Bake the mixture 
in one crust. 

Frozen Coffee Custard 

One-half pint cold, strongcoffee, 1 cup 

of sugar, 1 pint of milk. 4 eggs, 1 pint 
whipped cream. Scald the milk in 
a double boiler; beat up the eggs and 
sugar together until light and ac 
the hot milk. Stir over the fire for a 
few moments and remove and cool. 
Then stir in the whipped cream 
the cold coffee: freeze. 

Fruit Salad 

One cupful of stoned dates, s - 
of canned pineapple, or one fn s 



apple, shredded, 1 cupful of broken 
nut meats, 1 stalk of celery and 3 
medium sized apples. Chop the apples, 
walnuts, dates and celery. Mix with 
mayonnaise dressing. Serve very cold 
on crisp lettuce leaves. 

Nut Candy 

Three-fourths of a cup granulated 
sugar, \}/2 cups New Orleans molasses, 
% of a cup butter, Y2 pound figs, 1 cup 
pecannut meats, 1 cup hazelnut 
meats, 134 cups walnut meats, pinch 
of baking soda. Boil the sugar and 
molasses same as for molasses candy. 
When nearly done, add the butter and 
continue boiling until it becomes 
brittle when a little is tried in water. 
Chop the figs (dates may be used 
instead). Add the chopped figs and 
the soda. Next add the nuts whole. 
Mix well and pour into a buttered 
bread pan and when cool cut around 
the edge and turn out. Cut into 

Cinnamon Cakes 

Take two cupfuls of molasses, 1 cup- 
ful of boiling water, two teaspoonfuls 
of saleratus, 2 teaspoonfuls of cinna- 
mon, 1 teaspoonful of salt. Stiffen 
the mixture with flour until it will 
just pour out. Bake in gem pans and 
serve hot with whipped cream. One- 
half this rule may be used. 

An Excellent Egg Dish 
Chop the whites of 12 hard boiled 

eggs and mix the yolks with a tea- 
spoonful and one-half of melted butter 
and a cupful and a quarter of sweet 
milk. Season with onion, salt, pepper, 
and mustard. Add to this the whites 
of the eggs and 1 cupful of soft-boiled 
rice and bake to a light brown. 

Scalloped Rice and Tomatoes 

One cup cooked rice, 2 sweet peppers, 
6 large tomatoes (fresh or canned), 
2 tablespoons butter, seasoning of a 
little salt, sugar, and pepper. Peal 
and slice the tomatoes and chop the 
peppers fine. Into a buttered baking 
dish put a layer of tomatoes and cover 
with rice and chopped peppers and 
seasonings of salt, pepper and sugar. 
Add another layer in the same manner 
and so on until the dish is filled, having 
a layer of tomatoes on top. Dot with 
butter and add a grating of cheese if 
desired. Bake, covered, for three- 
quarters of an hour and uncovered 
for one-quarter of an hour. (Excellent.) 

An Excellent Luncheon Dish 

Remove the skin from several large 
Spanish onions; remove the center 
core enough to leave a large hole. 
Chop a little of the removed centers 
with some minced ham and fill the 
onions with this mixture, seasoned 
with a little pepper and salt. Place 
the onions on a well-buttered baking 
dish and baste them freely with melted, 
butter. Bake until a golden brown. 

Worcester's Great Forward 

The Worcester Chamber of Com- 
merce has just concluded a highly 
successful re-organization and mem- 
bership campaign under the direction 
of William R. McComb, Civic Engi- 
neer and City development expert 
of Chicago. 

This organization is on the depart- 
mental plan and is intended for eco- 
nomic and efficient service. The plan 

is the product of Mr. McComb's 

The Worcester Chamber of Com- 
merce has for its president, Mr. A. H. 
Inman, of Pratt & Inman, wholesale 
metals, Worcester; Mr. C. H. DeFosse, 
vice-president; and Mr. H. N. Davison, 
secretary. Mr. Davison is the presi- 
dent of the New England Commercial 
Executives Association. 



MR. A. 11. INMAN 
President, Worcester Chamber of Commerce 

By this plan of organization Wor- 
cester is assured an up-to-date and 
efficient Chamber of Commerce, ac- 
cording to the experience of modern 
organizations of this character. Ad- 
ditional units or bureaus can be added 
at any time under this arrangement. 

The plan is extremely simple. "The 
entire membership of the organization 
is immediately divided into groups 
according to the desires of the indi- 
vidual members; that is to say, there 
are live divisions, or departments of 
the organization, and the members 
are privileged to affiliate themselves 
with any department the}' ma}- desire. 
They enable every man to make some 
contribution to his city both of money 
and time and to put them both where 
they will do the most good. 

The basis of a civic organization 
on this plan is that every man has 
two relations or interests in life — first 
his individual interest in his own 
immediate business; second, his 

broader, or community interest . The 
first is thoroughly and entire, 
the second is as thoroughly m i 

Because a man may be a retail shoe 
merchant it no rea on I 
that the entire interest* of his e 
ence are centered in footwear. I* 
only fair to him b <■ that he has 

a broader interest in life than the 
immediate affair- out of which he 
draws a living. For that re; : 
members of the Chamber of Conn: 
are asked to designate their affiliation 
with the various department . 
much to advance their selfish inten 
as their unselfish inten S that 

while a man ma;, be in the retail 
business, his heart inten be 

in philanthropy, in foreign t: 
in new industries, or in civic betterment. 

The work of the body and its prin- 
cipal activities will b< handled 
in five department s. 


Secretarv, Worcester Chamber of Cor. 

New England Magazine 

JUNE 1913 






GALES FERRY Mary Louise Gray . 163 

FOLLY LEDGE ■ . . Alice Shea ... 166 


THE PROSPECT UNION . . . . . Grace Agnes Thompson . 183 


THE GUARDIAN — A Serial. Chapter XXV . . . . . . . 191 

THE VANISHING BIRDS Nora Archibald Smith . 194 


Entered at Boston Post Office as second-class matter. $1.75 A YEAR. Foreign Postage 
seventy-five cents additional. 15 CENTS A NUMBER. 

Pope Building, 221 Columbus Ave., Boston, Massachusetts 

special notice to subscribers 


^Beautiful VS^ew England 

WHEREVER youthful pro 
and athletic development 
held in regard, the Thai 
River at New London, Con- 
necticut, is known as the scene of the 
annual Yale-Harvard Regatta. We are 
picturing this month scenes about Gales 
Ferry, the Yale headquarters on the 
River. The rural sweetness and the Sim- 
plicity of the appointments contrast 
so strongly with the lurid tales of col- 
legiate extravagance with which the pub- 
lic is misled by the irresponsible sensa- 
tional press of the country, that we are 
sure that many fathers and mothers will 
look upon these pictures with content- 
ment and reassurance. It is good to 
know of the development of youthful 
vigor in the midst of scenes so simple 
and wholesome. Quiet and unmarked 
by any extraordinary feature, Gales Ferry 
is still characterized by that elusive 
charm that gives so unique an individual- 
itv to all New England. 





"The West ix the East" 
\\ illiam McComb is widely knew a as a £ 

ful commercial rganizer is 1 

instrumentality that such splendid results 
been achieved in ^ rc< ster and La 1 rence. Mr. 
McComb is from the West and brings the west- 
ern commercial evangelism tc New Er.c 

New England Magazine 

Vol. XLIX 

JUNE, 1913 

Number IV 

Japan in America 

LAND-HOLDING in California 
is not the whole of the Japanese 
question. Something more 
than that is at stake in the 
negotiations now pending between 
this country and Japan, and although 
Japanese insistence should not be 
allowed to hurry our decision, we, 
on the other hand, should not evade 
the issue. 

Japan is overpopulated. Her peo- 
ple are seeking an outlet. Wherever 
they find a foothold and encourage- 
ment they come in increasing numbers. 
It is no secret that their eyes are now 
looking across the Pacific. Our people 
are justified in feeling that the situation 
is serious. There are two views of 
the matter either of which is logical 
and consistent. 

The first view is that the Japanese 
are an intelligent and thrifty people, 
and their presence will lower no 
standards and therefore can do no 
possible harm. If they are our inferiors, 
they can but occupy an inferior place. 
If they are our betters, we can only 
gain by their presence among us. 
They come to meet the fair competi- 
tion of our own citizens, and we do but 
ill to maintain our supremacy on 
any other basis than that of superior 
merit in the face of any and all com- 

The second view is that the Japanese 
coming to this country in numbers 
will introduce a new race question. 

We already have one, which is quite 
enough. There is no question of their 
superiority or inferiority at stake. 
It is simply a race issue, and much 
more easily settled before they come 
than when they represent a consider- 
able percentage, perhaps a majority 
in some districts, of the population. 

There is a third view, but it is 
weak and temporizing. It is merely 
that not a great number have yet 
come, and we are borrowing trouble. 
Perhaps not many ever will come. 
Let us wait and see, and in the mean- 
while extend to them the same hospi- 
tality that we do to others. 

This third view is unworthy of the 
dignity and strength of our nation. 
There is a very real question before 
us, and we ought to settle it. 

The second view would seem to be 
that which must prevail. There is 
no question of friendliness to the 
Japanese, nor of respect for their many 
fine qualities. They are a sharply 
differentiated people. Inter-marriage 
with whites produces a race of inferior 
persons. But there can be no true 
assimilation without inter-marriage. 
Therefore they would remain among 
us as an alien people or amalgamate 
only to produce a race possessing none 
of the finer qualities of either — a 
mongrel and inferior type. To deliber- 
ately invite such a situation would be 
to invite the just resentment of 




Nothing hinges on the question as 
to whether the Japanese are or are not 
Mongolians. It is a fact that they 
differ in essential racial characteristics 
from the whites. The physical qualities 
which they exhibit are as radically 
different as the moral. They may 
have their own high destiny, and in 
working it out we should befriend and 
aid them. But that destiny is not 
advanced by sullying their racial 
purity. They should be the last 
people in the world to desire it. The 
soul that looks through almond eyes 
will not see just as the soul that sees 
through horizontal eyes — they may 
see better. Any claim of superiority 
on our part is not justified and is not 

called for in order to justify us in a 
policy of discouraging imigration. 

I believe that I am stati: 
conviction of the majority of thinking 
men in America, when I say that the 
American people do respect and admire 
the Japanese and desire friendly inter- 
course with them, but that we do not 
believe in the intermingling of the 
two races and desire to effectually 
discourage their imigration to this 
country for permanent residence. 

In settling the questions pressed 
upon us by the Japa- '-rnment, 

we have a duty to perform that may 
require something of courage and 
firmness, but that ought not to be 

The New Age in Lawrence 

LAWRENCE is an American 
city, — an American city in 
traditions and ideals. She 
has been a component part 
of the forces that make for America's 
greatness. Whether, in the past, she 
has achieved the highest planes possible 
in those things that tend for construc- 
tiveness in national greatness, is not 
the question, nor can it with justice 
be charged that if sometimes she has 
fallen short in her achievements that 
she has lacked our national standard. 
Lawrence needs no apologist in her 
behalf. The record of her Americanism 
is clean and clear. She stands before 
the world upon her history, nor need 
her sons and daughters blush at its 
recounting. Those born of her mothers 
and bred in her atmosphere have gone 
abroad and contributed their part to 
the current events of their time. The 
names of her sons are enrolled among 
the law-makers and justices of the 
nation. She has contributed her 
part to the educational and artistic 
forces, not only of her own country, 
but of the world. No finer examples 
of sturdy industry and integrity of 
New England blood can be found than 
among those who with pride claimed 
Lawrence as their birthplace. In 

art, in music, in law, in medicine, 
in governmental office, Lawrence's 
name re] the acme of human 

achievement as the birthplace of 
the brightest Lights in the firmament 
of these activit: 

Yet there are those who may have 
said that in the greatness of her 
when much honor should be heaped 
upon her head, she falls on evil d 
But this is not ture. Nor does she 
fail when she is called upon to refute 
the charge, for past and present she 
has filled her office as a representative 
American city. — staunch in her faith 
in herself and her faith in her people. 
Her record speaks for her in clarion 
tones, and vindicates her claims of 

America in population is the most 
heterogeneous, and at the same time 
most homogeneous, of all nat. 
Her homogenity is large, it is broad, 
it is permanent; her heterogenity is 
small, it is narrow, it is pronour 
it is momentary. The heterogeneous 
mass of population pouring in on all 
sides from all the world is quickly 
absorbed and amalgamated, becoming 
part of the great nation that welccines 

There are times and places where 



this influx of new raw material becomes 
so pronounced that it is prominent, 
and like any unusual condition any- 
where becomes obvious and is spoken 
of. But the mere fact of its quantity 
and momentary prominence does not 
alter nor change the abiding laws in 
the chemistry of civilization that 
change the foreign into the common 

Lawrence, so far as she is a part 
of this nation, may be a melting- 
pot. Her condition may be spoken of 
as unusual, since by reason of economic 
and industrial conditions, she is re- 
ceiving more and more of the raw 
material that goes to make the homo- 
■ geneous whole known as American 
citizenship. Again, she may be getting 
by reason of these same conditions, 
a little more material that is peculiarly 
difficult to amalgamate because of 
racial traits or ancestral environment. 
These conditions peculiar to herself, 
and the character of the raw material 
that she receives may intensify the 
difficulties of her assimilating pro- 
cesses, and lengthen the time of their 

Time, in the formation of national 
character, and in the shaping of 
human souls to new standards, is a 
relative term. That which might 
seem long in the mind or life of the 
individual is but short in the history 
of a race or people. 

All of this need not, nor does it, 
nor can it detract from the standards 
and ideals of Lawrence and her citizen- 
ship. Increasing difficulties and multi- 
plying problems may sometimes have 
darkened her vision, but in the clear 
light of her reason she stands firm to 
her ideals and her true Americanism. 

If, by the cast of Fortune, she is 
to be an instrument of use in absorbing 
from other peoples those who will 
tend to the greatness of this nation 
when they have become a part of it, 
she welcomes her task, and with 
courage and fortitude prepares herself 
for it. She stands with open arms to 
receive those who come to her and 
cast themselves into her keeping, and 
asks only that they live up to her 

standards. She will take the children 
of the earth to her bosom as a mother, 
but as a mother she claims obedience 
to law and order in return for love 
and care. With the sternness of virtue 
she demands righteousness and she 
will give succor. 

She will not tolerate those who 
would come to destroy, nor those who 
stand aloof and refuse to become a 
part of the progress and might of the 
nation, exemplifying her ideals. But 
those who will become imbued with 
American ideals and will live up to 
American traditions and will become 
a part of her and will help to solve 
her problems, — these she will make 
of herself. 

This, in brief, represents Lawrence 
and the attitude of her awakened 
citizenship. So far as the influx of 
foreign population is concerned, she 
welcomes them if they will stand by 
and for law and order. If they will not, 
she will forcibly compel them to, if 
they remain with her. The people 
of Lawrence recognize their own indus- 
trial problems. They are not blind 
to the problems of labor. They have 
a clear understanding of the questions 
of capital. Her right-thinking citizens 
have joined hands to make themselves 
a helpful and constructive force in 
working out the problems of the 
employer and employed. 

Lawrence recognizes that in the 
flux of affairs many problems will 
come to her, in the future even more 
than in the past. Her geography and 
locality, coupled with her wonderful 
water-power, have made of her a hive 
of industry. In the sixty-six years 
of her existence she has proven her 
stalwart worth and her ability to meet 
and overcome all difficulties. In her 
growing industrial might, she has 
solved the problems of industry as 
the years presented them. She has 
been at all times a stalwart New 
England city, giving her sons to her 
country's service, and adding the 
weight of her strength to her nation's 
greatness. And in the future, as in 
the past, will the city redeem that 
promise by her adherence to strict 



Americanism and all that it en- 

Themen of Lawrence recognize to-day 
that not only have they their industrial 
problems, but they have the working 
out of the part this city shall take 
in New England's future, and the part 
the city, section and nation shall 
play in the world's destiny. Realizing 
these things, the men of Lawrence 
are sanely undertaking to deal with 
the great problems of transportation, 
industry and commerce in a big way; 
for they know that production, trans- 
portation and commerce go hand in 
hand, and the perfection of one must 
be coupled with the completeness of all. 

The men of Lawrence have created 
among themselves a strong, represen- 
tative, central, civic, commercial and in- 
dustrial body, the Lawrence Chamber of 
Commerce. It has been created on 
the basis of American traditions and 
American ideals. Its watchword is 
personal righteousness, righteousness 
civically, righteousness commercially, 
righteousness industrially. In the 
spirit of that watchword does it pro- 
pose to deal with itself and with its 
citizens and with those in its midst 
who are citizens in the making. 

This organization and the men who 
are building it are creating a Lawrence 
idea, and that idea is the solution of 

the problem! not alone peculiar to 
themselves, but probl* Jiar 

to all intensified industry. Tail idea 
is expressed in the tingle word "human- 
ization" — humanizing industry — 
putting a little more sunlight, a little 
more happiness, a little more 
and making a little fuller and a little 
more beautiful ever;,- human life, 
whether that of employer or employed. 

The Lawrence Chamber of Commerce 
is being organized on the departmental 
plan under the direction of William 
McComb, the Civic Engineer of Chi- 
. and Mr. W. B. M the 

same city, his associate. 

This organization stands stc: 
on the basis of law and order in this 
community, the conservai men 

ell as wealth, the humanizi: 
individuals, the O I D of 

the city along right lines, the di\- 
fixation of industries, and the improve- 
ment of mercantile conditions, the 
proper relation of shipper to transporta- 
tion interests, creating abo\ 
thing else an improved environment by 
building a better home town. 

An organization campaign under 
the direction of Mr. McComb and 
Mr. Moore has just been completed, 
giving Lawrence one of the stro: 
and most efficient organizations among 
the smaller cities of the United States. 





Gales Ferry 

Mary Louise Gray 

UPON the Thames River is a 
little village almost unknown 
save for a short time each 
summer. During the few 
weeks the Yale crew live and practise 
there, Gales Ferry is the mecca of 
all interested in the Yale-Harvard 
race, then is forgotten again for another 

Once this was a thriving little 
village, with a nourishing school. 
There was a wire ferry connecting 
it with the village and railroad across 
the river, operated by one Gale, fo>r 
whom the place was named, but that 
has been gone for more than half 
a century. Nearly all the men who 
lived here were sea captains who 
owned their houses and small patches 
of land, while back on the hills lay 
prosperous farms. Now the farms 
are run down or deserted and few 
of the old names are to be found 

among the owners. The sea captains, 
too, are all gone and their calling 
with them. Many of the old families 
have disappeared entirely and what 
remain are nearly all women with a 
few old men. There is practically 
nothing for a young man to do, so 
of course he has to seek his fortunes 

Strange to say, when the place was 
more inaccessible more people lived 
here. Formerly the only way of 
reaching it was by train to Montville, 
on the west side of the river, then 
across by rowboat. Fourteen years 
ago the railroad was put through, 
connecting it with Norwich, eight 
miles north and with New London 
six miles south and many of the old 
places are now owned by summer 
residents. These places are closed 
the greater part of the year and 
during the winter there are less than 



. 'mm 


fifty people living between the river 
and the church — and two-thirds of 
these are women. 

For a few weeks in the summer the 
transients make the place quite gay. 
On the bluff between the river and 
the railroad track are about twenty- 
five small cottages owned by clerks 
and bookkeepers in the cities near by 
and the population gains greatly. 

But it is in the few weeks before 
the big race that Gales Ferry is really 
on the map. Every train brings 
visitors, the street is lively with auto- 
mobiles and many more come in 
launches. All interest is centered on 
the Yale crew and their quarters. 
On the bank of the river Thames 
stands what was once Broadview, 
owned by Captain Christopher Brown 
and the headquarters of Decatur 
in the year of 1812. It is now the 
Yale Varsity Quarters and has been 
enlarged and many improvements 
adided in the past five years. Next to 
this are the Freshmen quarters and 
a 1 the houses in the neighborhood are 
levied upon for rooms for the tutors 

and visitors. Across from the post 
office is a little cottage called "The 
Ichabod," after some former owner. 
Here the Yale examinations for the 
crews used to be held before they 
owned their present quarters. Just 
back of the post office is a high ledge 
and here, one year, the Yale crews 
painted in flaming letters the scores 
of the Yale-Harvard baseball games. 
Twice a day the crews turn out for 
exercise, singly, in pairs and in squads, 
taking the stretch between the quarters 
and the church, a proceeding very 
interesting to strangers. Part of their 
way the road runs between sweet 
locust trees, and further along under 
the shadow of a high hill crowned 
with thick pines. 

Across a very beautiful cove rises 
a hill commonly called Mount Decatur. 
Plenty of hills there are that are higher 
and far more celebrated, but none 
great or small, can be any lovelier than 
this one, spring and fall. In the spring, 
great masses of laurel cover the base 
and stretch up its slope wherever the 
rocks will give it room. In the fall, 



its colors are gorgeous, toned by the 
dark green of its pines on the summit 
and the gray of its ledges. On the 
top are the remains of Decatur's fort 
and a few years ago the C. A. R. placed 
a tablet on a boulder marking one 
boundary line. 

About half a mile beyond the church, 
on a road that is no longer used, is an 
abandoned cemetery.' Many stones 
are sunken and so overgrown it is 
impossible to read them, but there 
are some Revolutionary stones in 
good condition yet and these the 
local D. A. R. have placed their 

markers on. One of these bears the 
following unforgiving, vindictive in- 

In Memory of 

Mr. Rufus Hurlbut 

Who fell in the bloody massacre 

Committed by Benedict Arnold's troops 

At Fort Griswold 

Septber the 6th, 

1781, in the 40th 

Year of his age, 

Reader consider how I fell 

For liberty I bled. 
Oh now repent ye sons of Hell 

For the innocent blood ye shead. 





Folly Ledge 


IN the Sunday twilight, between 
the rounds of a southwesterly 
storm, Joe Gotti was leading 
his bride to her home. They 
went at a pace suggesting Italian in- 
fantry, the bride in white and plumed 
like an officer, the kinsmen behind, 
two and two and two, each bearing 
something of the impedimenta of the 
honeymoon. One had a bright, new 
bag, and the others long boxes from 
the big stores. The}- were the fresh 
gowns of the trousseau. The friendly 
half light was no screen from the eager, 
expectant interest of the neighbors, 
Finns and Irish and Yankees. They 
found their view from the windows 
cut off by the fringe of locusts, and ran 
into the road for a better appraisal of 
Joe's bride. 

The hurrying party was well started. 
Although a few followed, the intimate, 
hearty greetings of the family gave 
them the pang of the intruder, which 
arrested their steps if not their curi- 

They ling it a glii 

of Joe's bride was denied. She was 
with the Gottis. 

Inside the house was L'reat 
Simple, hardy men they were. They 
had succeeded to the vigorous callings 
of early Yankees and Irish, who had 
gone out in a dory or had ''wallop;. 
stone in the quarries. They were 
gathered for the jesta. Their leisure 
was spent for the most part listei 
to Italian opera, thanks to Signor 
Edison for his miraculous horn. The 
women were very beautiful as they 
welcomed Joe's bride in a way that 
Joe had fondly desired. She, poor 
lady, could only respond with tears 

They seated her at the generously 
laid table. With the aniipasto all 
ate and talked in their hearty manner, 
and listened to Caruso and to Bond 
and Tetrazzini, and the slogan of 
the canals of Venice and the Neapolitan 

Old Georgio must tell the bride — ■ 



the others were tired of hearing of it — 
of the night that Caruso first sang in 

"It was celestial," mused Georgio. 
"We all went into the Square of 
Vittorio Immanuele and looked up 
at the sky and thanked Heaven for 
the new star that had risen in Italy." 
"Peperoni incolata," breathed 
Mother Testa, as Tina Romaneghli 
came in from the kitchen bearing a 
white platter of green peppers stuffed 
with little salty herring, caught in 
Ipswich Bay. Lena was serving onion 
soup, putting a piece of browned toast, 
covered with bits of veal and be- 
sprinkled with Parmesan cheese, in 
- the bottom of each soup-plate. Fumes 
were rising from the Gnocchi Doro, 
that golden food of the gods, first made 
by the chef of Lucullus or whoever 
managed the Olympic dinners. They 
were all as merry as children over the 
dolce, in the making of which twenty 
of Testa's eggs had been beaten to a 
pale custard. It was an enormous 
pasty fully twenty inches across, 
a toothsome sweet. Children long for 
it at Christmas time, Easter Sunday 
and wedding feasts. There were the 
heartiest congratulations for Tina 
Romaneghli and for Lena, too, for the 
splendid dinner, wonderful cooking 
in this land of scrod and chowder. 

"Let's go in and see the house," 
said Joe, who did not see why all these 
people did not go home and leave him 
alone with Maria. They were far 
from thinking of Joe's comfort, how- 
ever. For several days the local ex- 
press had been carrying goods to that 
house next door. They were all eager 
to look it over, and they started to rise 
with approving shouts. 

"The bride must be the first to 
enter," Georgio was suggesting, when 
a series of sharp knocks having the 
intensity of pistol shots sounded 
cruelly above the din of voices and 
the scraping of chairs. 

To end the silence, Joe shouted, 
"Come in, come in." 

The door flew open. There stood a 
little, agitated figure. Joe recognized 
her as Miss Kay, a school-teacher from 

Cleveland. He had often chatted with 
her in The Cove, man-fashion, about 
inpersonal things, presidential candi- 
dates, the struggles in the town going 
on between the Finnish Lutherans and 
the Finnish Socialists, wages and 
working conditions in the quarries. 
As Joe saw Miss Kay in the door- 
frame, wrapped in a long-hooded 
cloak that enfolded her figure, head 
and all, he remembered in a flash all 
these conversations. Joe liked Miss 
Kay. She wasn't like that artist 
friend of hers. Joe read the papers. 
Miss Kay wasn't like those women 
who tried to blow up Parliament and 
destroy dukes. Her eyes were set in 
dark frames, and they were full of 
tenderness. She always stopped in 
The Cove to play with the bambini. 
Before he could address her courte- 
ously, she gasped: 

"Joe, there's a man outside crying 
for help. Will you put off in your 
motor boat and save him?" 

" Madre di Dio" murmured Maria. 
Joe's impulse was to go. He was as 
brave as the lion-hearted Butcher, 
hero of a hundred rescues, but after- 
glancing at his wondering bride, he 
replied, "I have only a little gas, Miss 
Kay. I wouldn't last any time. Why 
don't you try Frank Ames?" 

"How can you shift your responsi- 
bility in such a time? Joe, come to 
the door and you can hear the poor 
fellow's shrieks." 

Either the wind had stiffened from 
the southwest, or the poor man was 
quiet forever, — they heard nothing. 

"I am going out in a dory, myself. 
I am ashamed of you," the little 
woman pleaded. 

The sex in Joe leaped to strong life. 
A woman ashamed of him, and before 
Maria? Never. Joy had departed 
from the festa. The women proved 
long-suffering and the men brave. 
The thought was present to them all 
that in the midst of so much life there 
might be death. They could under- 
stand the horror of it only by imagining 
themselves out in the cold water and 
the unfriendly darkness, clinging to 
some bit of a boat. Joe, without a 



good-bye, save to reassure his bride, 
broke for The Cove, hatless and in his 
wedding garments. 

It was raining in spits and spats. 

On the top of the breakwater stood a 

little band discernible in a lantern's 

light, seemingly as high as a star. On 

the pier waited Miss Kay, in nervous 

conversation with Dudley, the tardy 

police officer, whom she was sending 

to the drug store to telephone for the 

Gloucester life-savers. Joe spoke to 

neither of them, but with Silas Diaz 

for a mate, he was soon under way 

through the gap in the breakwater 

into the open sea, which looked rather 

a closed sea for the darkness and the 

rain. Fortunately they found oilskins 

in the boat. On the ramparts some 

of the band could be made out by the 

lantern's light, Charlie Cunningham, 

Herbert Lane and Albert Wells. 

Cunningham shouted, "The cry 
came from the ledge, but we haven't 
heard it in five minutes." 

This reply angered Joe. With Maria 
at home waiting, he was not trying for 
a monopoly of glory. 

"Why didn't you take a dory, and 

go alter him yourself?" he cried. 

"There wasn't an oar in The Cove." 

"I think I'd have taken a chance 

and broken into one of the fish-houses," 

Joe snapped back. 

With the cruelty of boyhood that 
survives in some form in every man, 
the little group laughed. Joe was 
fortunately out of hearing. It was 
well known that Joe's worst grievance 
was that he could not get a hold on 
any shares in the Breakwater Company 
which would give him the use of one 
of the fish-houses. The massive wall 
that held back the battering sea had 
been built by early settlers, who were 
fast growing old and bent. There 
were no young men to take their places, 
the usual condition in country towns 
of New England, but they hated to 
sell to a "ginney." Instead, shares 
were quietly slipping into the hands 
of Dr. Gammon for services ren- 
dered, while the old men puttered over 
seines and nets and lobster-pots, 
neighboring in the doorways of the 

;'ray fish-houses facing The ( 
zigzag-fashion, sometimes su: 
themselves on the weathered bleach- 
eners, on the twenty-two foot lots 
across the road that fisherman 

possessed from the early d;. 
he used to cure cod. 

Joe cast out hatred and envy as 
his boat sped along. 1 e or 

no fish-house, he would take the : 
of the brave Butcher, the life-saver, 
and Maria would look at him frith 
pride. Was not that enough for any 
man ? 

Silas Diaz crouched in the bow as 
the boat nosed into the sullen 
every fourth <>r fifth wave washing 
the stern, drenching the two men by 
turns. Joe's fathers had been sailors. 
Some said that they had been pi: 
at home from Genoa to the Ba 
Messina. It was a tradition that they 
had the key to a safe pas ■veen 

Scylla and Charybdis. used to 

withdraw to family life up in the hills 
back of Florence when not sailing. 
The Diazs had sailed the Spanish 
main, Silas's grandfather landing on 
Cape Ann in shipwreck. The -; irits 
of the two men rose to something 
primal, to pre-natal instincts that 
spurned fear as they cut through the 
ugly black water that would have 
terrified any land-hearted man. 

"Where did the cry come frc: 
Joe called. 

"The Ledge — over by The Foil] 
returned Lane. 

Joe pointed her for the veiled ledj 
A lantern here and there identified the 
groups on shore, one at Steer's Porch, 
another at Bridey's Pocket. Like a 
wild duck, the boat flew straight ahead, 
the straining motor making the lan- 
tern in the bow jerk with rhythmic 

"I never knew Joe could go so 
fast," said Herbert Lane. 

The nervous movings of the lanterns 
betrayed the charged feelings of the 
helpless spectators. Some hallooes, 
serve notice on whoever it might be 
out there in the darkness, that his 
kind was still thinking of him and 
please to hold on to life until help came. 



Others were speechless. It seemed so 
futile to attempt to send any ray of 
hope into all that waste. 

The boat light was now motionless. 
Joe and Silas Diaz were calling, but 
no answer reached the obsessed 
watchers on the shore. The light 
moved on, and it was suddenly lost 
behind the Folly Ledge. What could 
have happened? It reappeared, a 
cynosure on that starless night, this 
time at maximum speed. 

"He's got him," yelled Cunning- 
ham, "or he wouldn't come so fast, 
and he's beaten the life-savers from 

"P'raps the life-boat can't get 
through the low water," Herbert Lane 

"Oh, pshaw, they could get through 
all right, jes' by goin' easy. She 
ought to be here by now," Cunning- 
ham speculated. 

Joe was now at full stop just off 
Bridey's Pocket, calling for a dory. 
Their gasolene supply had become 
exhausted. The body of a man lay 
motionless in the bottom of the boat. 
As nearly as he could make out, it 
was an Italian, not a fisherman, and 
not a man from the south of Italy. He 
was long and dark and graceful, 
probably a Florentine. Surely he 
knew little of boats or the sea, or the 
Gloucester shore on such a wild night. 
What might have brought him there? 
From their height on the break- 
water, the watchers could see the 
searchlight of the life-boat sweeping 
the bay. 

"Here she is, — keep off 'til the life- 
boat comes," shouted Wells. 

At last Joe saw her rounding 
Annisquam Light, making bright the 
dark vastness of the water, mistress 
of the sea. On she came like the 
beautiful day, her mile-long shaft of 
light stabbing the darkness to death. 
It rested humanly on Joe's motor boat, 
and it seemed to draw it towards her 
as a magnet draws a pin. The hearts 
of the watchers were rising. They 
could hear the hail of the lookout, 
made big and strong through a mega- 
phone, making Joe's unassisted call 

sound weak. Those on shore could 
see the expert boatmen, as soon as 
they became aware of Joe's plight, 
draw alongside the smaller craft and 
skilfully remove what appeared to be 
the helpless body of a man. 

"They're goin' to work over him 
'board their own boat, where there's 
a plenty of room," Cunningham ex- 

They had Joe's boat in tow, and 
they were coming slowly towards the 
gap in the breakwater. It was too 
gripping. As the merest spectators 
at a tragedy, summer visitors, out- 
staying the season for a little more 
quietness and relaxation, were thrilled 
to the marrow. 

Into the gap came the life-boat with 
her convoy, to be enfiladed with eager 

"Who is he?" 

"Is he alive?" 

"Where did you get him?" — all 
talking at once. 

"He's alive," answered the stalwart 
lookout. "Some one's got ter take 
him for the night," he continued. 

"He's one of us, and he's coming 
with us," cried Joe Gotti. , 

A cheer went up that must have 
pierced the black night to the in- 
visible stars. Joe was heedless; eyes, 
ears and heart he yearned for Maria, 
waiting on the pier. How she hated 
the wicked sea that had separated 
them so fearfully! As for Joe, just 
the sight of her and the sound of her 
voice. There she was — God bless 
her — with his greatcoat about her 
wedding gown, the only woman in the 
world who could make him love life. 

Neatly they warped into the pier. 
Joe had sprung ashore the last yard of 
distance. Maria in his arms, he was 
comforted. So selfish is happiness 
that they forgot the poor, quiet figure 
stretched along the granite landing 
place, a lantern at his head and the 
pitying crowd all about him. 

"Joe," old Georgio startled them, 
" I'm going to give him your old room." 

"Sure," shouted Joe. 

He and Maria moved over to the 
body, Joe bending low to listen to 



the heart beat. Maria, in the white 
shadow of a great block of granite, 
was caught into immediate and friendly 
embrace by Tina Romaneghli. 

"He'll come 'round all right," Joe 
was saying. "Just a little rest, that's 

Was not the man saved, and were 
they not all ashore? To Joe it was 
all over, but Tina Romaneghli felt 
the bride tremble. She heard her 
whisper in a breathless voice, 

"My brother, he's my brother 

Had not her husband caught her, 
she would surely have fallen. It was 
a night of unusual hapenings, and he 
gave himself as simply to the task of 
comforting Maria as he had to the 
work of the rescue. The unconscious 
man was the only one who did not add 
to the ensuing confusion, questions, 
exclamations, prayers, and wondering. 

"She said her brother Roberto; 
kind Heaven, who ever heard of her 
brother?" wheezed Mother Testa, roll- 
ing this bit of gossip under her toneue. 

"Well," old Georgio fairly bellowed, 
raging that the Gottis' family affairs 
should furnish a subject for public 
talk, "who's got a better right to her 
husband's old bed? Come, Joe, we'll 
carry him up to the house." 

They ignored the onlookers and 
between them they managed to get 
the still man up the street and into 
the little attic bedroom. Father and 
son scorned the help of the women 
downstairs, but Maria slipped in. 
She gazed dumfounded at her brother, 
the unconscious Roberto. 

"Is he your brother?" at last old 
Georgio demanded sternly. 

"Si, j-/," wailed Maria, thoroughly 

"Hm," grunted the old man. "He's 
come to the wedding all right." 

They worked over him grimly for 
a long time, rubbing warm oil into 
his cold body, rolling him in blankets, 
slapping and chafing his hands and 
feet, and pouring the hot punch from 
the festa down his throat. After all 
this care, he simply had to recover. 
Old Georgio forbade Maria to appear. 

Finally, he ordered the young couple 
out of the house and watched them 
go up the road and into their own new 
home, xvaiiing until he saw an upper 
window show a Y. 

"God be kind to them," he mur- 
mured. It was still dark and bio. 
hard, no stars or moon. In the Cape 
Ann chill, the old man sh^t hit i 
and saw a small house up in the hills 
of Fiesole, where the moon was wrap- 
ping the grove of purpling olive I 
in a white mantle. V. i if it more than 
yesterday since he had 
mother hom< 

"Ah, well. Dio m i 

He sighed as he went in All 

the wedding guests wen Al- 

though the rescued man was breathing 
painfully, he was in a deep sleep. 
Ipswich Bay had been fairly cheated 
of one more victim whose bones would 
not whiten on its dreary bottom. 

Next morning R bert wa /.ting 
in the full glare of the September sun, 
wrapped in blankets, on ( back 

porch, overlooking the treacherous 
sea, now a dancing, innocent blue. 
I [e '.as still cold. 

"It was the night that I put on the 
films of the wandering Ulysses.*' he 
began, trying to tell Joe and his 
father the beginning of the Bt 
"It took two years to get them ready 
in Milano," he continued proudly. 
"You know all kinds of people come 
to Lawrence," he explained, while for 
the moment his thoughts dwelt on 
that troublous place that beckons the 
children of southern Europe but to 
betray them to the sodden life of the 
mi41s, the mecca for agitators, ad- 
venturers and the idly curious who 
enjoy looking on at fierce aspects of 

"Well, when Ulysses is in the ship- 
wreck, and the storm is all about him, 
my new friends are enchanted. They 
come again and again to see the st 
and they invite me to go fishing with 
them and see the real pictures in 
Ipswich Bay." 

Roberto covered his face with his 
hands and wept. "Poor fellers," he said. 
"I hope we hear from them to-c. 



The three men looked across the bay 
and were silent. 

It seems it was in the variegated 
audience that he found in his moving 
picture theater in Lawrence that Ro- 
berto had made friends with the 
Italian trawlers. They are the daring 
men who form their luggers into small 
squadrons for night fishing in Ipswich 
Bay, where they catch the fish that 
swarm at the mouth of the Essex and 
Ipswich Rivers, where the. sea and the 
winds are so uncertain that regular 
fishing hamlets have never sprung 
up on the near-by sandy shores of 
Wingaesheek. Their squatty boats, 
broad and deep, are the diminutives 
of the Galway luggers that carried so 
much mackerel in the eighties and 
nineties to the Irish canneries. Swing- 
ing lanterns fore and aft, they are 
oftentimes seen at night lying across 
the bay, a bright serpent on the face 
of the waters, for the admiration of 
the landsmen, vying with the re- 
flection of Scorpio from a summer sky. 

Roberto took up the thread of his 

"I go with them on Sunday. It is 
fine day, blue sea, and a clear fair 
sky, but they say the wind it shift 
when the sun goes down and night 
came in as black as melancholy. I 
have no counsel. I submit to my 

He could not tell how it had hap- 
pened. There was chianti in the 
cabin. In no time they were up the 
bay and lost to the boats of the other 
trawlers, who were making for the 
'Squam River, trying to get to 
Gloucester. In a fierce blow, their 
gas all gone, they had capsized. 
Roberto had hung on desperately to 
the tender. The last he saw of his 
companions they were being borne 
away from him out to sea. 

"Over towards Newburyport, God 
pity them," murmured old Georgio. 

Filled with terror, Roberto had kept 
up a piercing cry for help. He never 
will forget the moment he saw Joe 
Gotti's light and heard the unmufrled 
motor. The great white way of the 
life-boat was nothing compared with 
the little yellow lantern that came so 
swiftly and steadily, bringing him the 
warm grasp of a human hand. 

Wonderful weather followed. Ro- 
berto was loath to go back to Law- 
rence, but the pictures needed his 
guiding presence. Maria was proud 
of her brother, so wonderfully returned 
into her life. She had not seen him 
since their mother's death, when they 
had taken continuously diverging 
paths. They called him a smart man 
down in The Cove, where he made 
many new friends. Mother Testa 
wagers he won't be long in returning 
to Lanesville if she is any judge of such 
things. As for Tina Romaneghli, she 
will never forget the Gotti wedding 
festa, when they brought in that beau- 
tiful young man, oh, so cold and white! 

Old Georgio is always going to keep 
this news item, cut from the Gloucester 

Gloucester, Mass., Sept., 13. — The band 
of Italian trawlers who have been fishing near 
the Essex River have not recovered their two 
companions who were out with them last Sunday 
night. It will be remembered that Roberto da 
Pesa, their guest, the owner of a moving picture 
show in Lawrence, was gallantly rescued by Joe 
Gotti of Lanesville, proving to be his wife's 
long-unheard-from brother. Gloucester is proud 
of the brave men who snatch others from death 
at sea, and she regrets if she must at such a time 
mourn the loss of two more fishermen in a salt 

They say that Dr. Gammon 
and Joe Gotti are dickering over the 
sale of ten shares of the Breakwater 
Company, which carries with it the 
rights to old Morgan's fish-house. 

The Perkins Institution for 
the Blind 


THE successful education of the 
blind at Perkins Institution is 
not so much a matter of method 
as of the mental attitude of I he- 
school toward its work. It is the kind- 
ness of unsentimentalit v bearing fruit, 
common sense crystalizing in definite 
accomplishment, the spirit of its 
founder, a prophet among men, per- 
petuated in those upon whom his 
mantle has fallen, The graduates of 
Perkins Institution become not wards 
of the state but citizens, not because 
they have been taught some trick or 
useful handicraft, but because of the 
spirit of self-reliance, the character, 
that has been infused into them. At 
Perkins Institution education and char- 
acter-building are synonymous term.-. 
The noble and truly monumental 
group of buildings, recently completed 
at Watertown, house something beside 
a few hundred pupils and a teaching 
staff; within them lives a great ideal, 
beneficent, far-reaching, leavening. 

"Obstacles are things to be oxer- 
come," is the motto given by Dr. Howe 
to the Perkins Institution for the 
Blind. The foremost and oldest insti- 
tution of its kind in the country, the 
Perkins Institution for the Blind, is an 
historic name to almost even" one. But 
to how many is it a definitely significant 
name. Here is an institution of which 
unique things are true. Dr. Samuel 
Gridley Howe, who laid its foundation 
work as to policy, made that policy 
a far-reaching one, a policy which 
to-day is as timely and as important 
as it is traditional. To develop the 
individual, to make him an efficient in- 
dividual in spite of his handicap, 
to train him in so far as is possible, 
without reference to his handicap, — 
this was the policy initiated by Dr. 
Howe, earnestly carried on by Mr. 


Anagnos, and continued and broadened 
by the present director. Mr. Edward 
Ellis Allen. What other institution 
in the country can lay claim t< 
tically continous policy for over three- 
quarters of a centur) ; He who ti 
of Perkins as a plant which hi 
and cares for the blind and which 
incidentally teaches them a trac- 
far from the truth. 

Like the tower >ld min 

the central architectural fcatu:' 
the new group rises al 
rounding verdure, at once a land-mark 
and a m< 

will, an invitation to the high possibil- 
ities of life and an in 
spiritual accomplishment and acl. 

On a wide and gentle curve of ihe 
Charles, not far above the - 
loved by Longfellow and the .V- 
which is the subjeel of one of his 
best-known poems, where the river 
yields its course t<> the firm soil of a 
sloping highland, a site formerly kfl 
as the Stickney estate, has been selected 
and developed with great skill by the 
architect, R. Clipston Sturgis. 

The style is a late English Gothic, 
a Gothic softened by domestication, 
simple but not severe, not devc : d 
ornament, but never tending toward 
the over-decorated styles. Save for 
the great, gray concrete tower, the 
buildings are low-eaved. constn. 
principally of brick laid in English 
bond and very pleasing against the 
green background oi lawns and trees. 

As a ground plan arrangement, the 
English close system has been followed, 
the buildings for each department 
being grouped about a formal quad- 
rangle. There is an expression oi 
purpose, of deliberation, of sound 
workmanship and solidity of construe- 




tion everywhere, and this is no doubt 
the source of the restful atmosphere 
of the place. 

Incidentally, one cannot but note 
the interesting possibilities for the 
upper bank of the Charles from Boston 
to Watertown suggested by the ap- 
proaching construction of the Institute 
of Technology buildings and the com- 
pletion of this interesting group. 

The Institution represents two 
schools, the lower, generally known as 
the kindergarten — to which blind 
children past the stage of helpless 

infancy are admitted, — and the upper 
school, which was for many years in 
South Boston. The kindergarten for 
the blind has always had the larger 
endowment and it would not have 
been possible from the comparatively 
insufficient funds of the upper school 
to have built so adequately had it not 
been possible for the kindergarten to 
share both the expense of first cost and 
of maintenance of the new plant, as it 
should justly assume. When a pupil 
in the kindergarten has arrived at the 
sixth grade he is transferred to the 




upper school. On the new grounds 
the lower and upper schools are each 
complete and independent, except for 
a common tunnel connection with 
the power house and service building. 
The lower school consists of two kinder- 
gartens and two primary schools and is 
divided into four independent families, 
each with its own matron and teachers, 
dining-room, kitchen, play cloisters, 
etc., and its own class-rooms attached, 
all under one roof and enclosing a great 
court. The central building of the 
entire group is the main building of 
the upper school. The remarkable 

Cathedral Tower, which alleviates 
what might otherwise be the monotony 
of the extent of the buildings, rises 
one hundred and eighty feet out of the 
center of this main building. This 
tower can be seen for miles around and 
a beautiful peal of English bells in the 
belfry rings gladness and beauty into 
the hearts of those who live there and 
those who hear it from afar. 

The architectural style of the build- 
ings is Tudor Gothic. They are fire- 
proof, low and narrow, but relieved 
with gables and bays affording the 
maximum of light and air. Practically 









all living and sleeping rooms are given 
southern exposure. The buildings 
are of brick with a slate roof. The 
plan, the exterior and interior of the 
buildings is wholesomely simple yet 
of much beauty as to lines and coloring. 
Cartouches, significant in the history 
of the blind, are introduced in spots. 
The main building is constructed 
about two hollow squares, forming a 
girls' and a boys' quadrangle. The 
north and south axis building, common 
to the courts, is a museum of teaching 
objects. In this axis are also an assem- 
bly room and a swimming pool, and 
south of the assembly room, and with 
its roof on a level with the assembly 
room floor is the gymnasium, built 
of concrete and fully equipped and 
having a roof skating rink. There is 
a great hall which will seat about 
four hundred persons. It is the only 
section of the whole group of buildings 
provided with a wooden floor, so that 
it may be used for dancing. This 
great hall is used for public entertain- 
ment, for dramatics and for dancing. 
In this same main building is a large 
library, rooms for an ample music 

library, for music teaching and practice 
and for piano tuning, and all the needed 
class-rooms for the girls' school and 
boys' school and for their manual 
training. The administration offices 
are also in this building. 

The girls' "close" of cottages is 
on one side of the main building and 
the boys' close on the other. In each 
case the cottages are under one roof 
and make three sides of a rectangular 
"close" 270 by 60 feet. Down its 
center runs a 20-foot brick walk con- 
necting with the main building. A 
cottage family is a unit and consists 
of a matron, four teachers, a helper 
who cooks, half the time of a second 
helper and twenty girls or boys of 
grammar and high school age. The 
house is complete with kitchen, dining- 
room, living-room, shower-bathrooms, 
etc., no dormitory, but the small 
room plan, every one having a sunny 
exposure. The buildings are planned 
so that they may be readily kept in 
order, as far as possible by the pupils 
themselves, the example being set by 
teachers and officers, all of whom per- 
sonally care for their own rooms. 



The floors are mainly battleship lino- 
leum, cemented down. The windows 
are outward-opening casements so 
that they may be open during rain. 
The two groups of the upper school 
are housed in nine cottages, the boys' 
" close" comprising four families, the 
girls' close consisting of four families 
and the model domestic science house. 
This arrangement does much to elimi- 
nate the "institution" aspect; rather 
does one think of a little community 
of families living together in harmony. 

The isolated buildings are: a little 
hospital, containing four separate suits, 
each with its kitchenette; also dentist's 
and oculist's rooms; a power house 
and service building; boiler, generating 
and refrigerating rooms, storerooms, 
bakery, laundry; kitchen, dining-room, 
and quarters for ten men; rooms for 
the Howe Memoiial Press; directors' 
private residence. 

The grounds are extensive and well 
planted with trees, not only fine shade 
trees, chiefly elms, lindens and horse- 
chestnuts, but also considerable or- 
chards of pear and apple. Half of the 
grounds is devoted to the boys' playing 
field and half to the girls'. 

Perkins Institution does not exist 
to wait upon, to care for the blind. It 
exists to make a certain portion of the 
young people who grow up to be help- 
ful and to be able to care for them- 
selves and for others. The young 
people to whom Perkins administers 
are those classified as blind. In order 
that we may understand from the 
outset all of the force of the policy and 
intent of the school, let us clearly 
realize the problem. Blind children 
are not mentally deficient or physically 
deficient children. Why, then, expect 
or allow them to become inefficient 
and helpless members of society: 
Mr. Allen has referred to them as 
seeing people in the dark. To start 
with, a child who is merely blind has 
as much mentality as any other child. 
The average home is not only of no 
real help to a blind child but, in many 
cases, ruinous to the child because it 
too often persists in regarding the 
child as incapable and helpless. The 

blind child then gradually vegetates, 
mentally, and becomes a stagnated 
body, helpless and moiOl t. To modify 

this by merely teaching him a trade is 
to give him something to do, but that 
does not solve the difficulty as he 
would still be an undeveloped men- 
tality. It is thus tb the far- 
reaching force of the policy whicl 
Howe initiated. To quote Mr. Allen, 
"He believed the blind pupil should 
be trained as nearly like his seeing 
brother as possible, and that then, 
like that brother, he should be put 
out equipped to make his way in 
open competition, and that, like him, 
he should become a citizen, sharing 
the privileges and responsibility 
that estate. This wai his conception 
of duty to the blind and to the com- 

But in this effort to make of the 
blind efficient citizens what facts need 
to be considered: The blind are natu- 
rally less vigorous than other p 
and have Less vitality. This means 
that they must be developed and 
energized physically, and so from the 
first physical training has been an 
important feature of every day. Again, 
since the pupils of the upper school 
are adolescent it is wise, for economic 
and for eugenic reasons, to educate the 
boys and girls strictly apart at all 
times. This prevents the possibility 
of attachments and of inter-marriage 
which may mean beggars. Instead 
they are taught that they need zcindozvs 
to the house — a pair of eyes — and 
to some of the graduates of Perkins 
has such opportunity come, and when- 
ever such has been the case they have 
more than proven themselves worthy 
and efficient helpmeets. To con- 
the problem further, most of these 
blind children come from humble 
homes, from homes where every mem- 
ber of the household needs must bear his 
share of the burden. It is to these homes 
that they will return and they can 
not afford to be unable to bear part 
of the burden. The policy, then, which 
Perkins had in its nucleus, Mr. Allen 
has enlarged upon. In order to make 
more helpful individuals, in order to 








make them happier, better prepared 
for what they will need to know how 
to do, and in order to make them wel- 
comed members of the household to 
which they will return, they live here 
at Perkins a life of service, each one 
a helping and a responsible member of 
an inter-dependent household. In 
order that they do not acquire the 
notion that to be educated means to 
be exempt from ordinary duty, these 
little households are little democracies 
where everyone does his share. The 
teachers care for their own rooms and 
share in the housework. The teachers 
in the boys' department help cut the 
wood with the boys, mow the lawn 
or do any necessary task, and since the 
school has been in the new buildings 
the boys are taking a more active share 
in their households. They wait on 
the tables and clear away and wash 
their dishes with willing hands and 
happy hearts. This contributory effort 
is entered into by all alike, by boys, 
by girls, by teachers and house- 
mothers. Thus, then, the policy of 
Perkins now is, not to instruct but to 

educate, not to prepare for life but 
to bring into their every-day life at 
Perkins the work-a-day duties which 
they will need to know when they go 
back to their homes, — to make this 
going back a transition and not a 
shock, to enable them to bear back to 
their homes not only efficiency but 
some degree of culture — and to hear 
the papers read by loyal alumnae the 
other day at the dedicatory exercises 
of Bennett Cottage was to realize that 
out from Perkins go ready-to-work 
hands and happy hearts and no small 
degree of real culture. Bennett Cottage 
is the domestic science cottage, which 
makes the third side of the girls' 
rectangular close. Here, for periods 
of three months at a time, four girls 
at a time live with the domestic 
science teacher and conduct all of the 
work of a household, including the 
preparation of their meals. This 
enables every girl to have an oppor- 
tunity for practice in doing the duties 
which every one of them as a woman 
will need to know. The four girls 
are chosen in turn from the advanced 



girls, and they are eager for the oppor- 
tunity to come to them. Thus every 
pupil is obliged to have constant 
physical training, to contribute his 
share to the labor required in the 
cottage in which he lives and to learn 
the many things which are taught 
them in the manual training depart- 
ment, — to sew, to knit, to seat chairs, 
to do sloyd and carpenter work, to 
make mattresses, to tune pianos. 
But it is not upon specialization that 
the stress is laid. The effort is to 
normalize the student, to make him 
become all he can become in spite of 
his blindness rather than to work him 
into an obvious pigeon-hole. A general 
education, a cultural education is 
emphasized. Then gradually, as the 
natural bent of the pupil becomes 
more and more evident, he is allowed 
to begin more and more to specialize. 
It was recently arranged that a girl who 
has proven herself fitted for it, might 
pursue the study of harmony as an 
equivalent for mathematics if she were 
desirous of so doing. The advantages 
for music study at Perkins are superior 
to those to be found in most schools 
and the quality of work produced is 
only equalled in a conservatory or 
school where music is the chief aim. 
The chorus work is excellent and each 
year some notable work is given. The 
addition of a normal class of advanced 
pupils in piano was instituted with a 
practical idea in mind. When, as 
graduates, they leave the school they 
will teach seeing pupils, hence it was 
advisable that they should learn how 
to teach the seeing. Consequently 
children from the neighborhood are 
invited in at a small fee and they form 
the laboratory. Music is an important 
feature of the life at Perkins. For 
those who have a good ear, piano 
tuning is an excellent occupation, for 
others who have the ability, the various 
forms of music instruction are open 
according as they have aptitude for it. 
For thirty years the school has had 
the contract to tune the pianos in 
the public schools of Boston. They 
now also hold the contract for tuning 
in the public schools of Maiden and 

in Worcester, and they are alway6 
eager to find more work and new fields. 
From outside contributions each year 
the pupils are enabled to hear some 
few concerts and recitals, and could 
the real joy of these blind listeners 
be known, I am sure the opportunities 
for these eager young folk to hear good 
music would be doubled. This year 
it was made possible to take the whole 
choir to hear the Cecilia Society give 
Hiawatha's Departure, and their inter- 
estwas intense because they thenv- 
had given the same work most excel- 
lently. There are several reasons for 
the superior quality of the work in 
music done at Perkins; the chorus 
rehearses daily throughout the year, 
thus the progress is steady and sure. 
Gradually but unfailingly they work 
toward their goal, — the yearly concert. 
Not a small force is the painstak'ng 
instruction which is given them. 
Patiently they are taught to master 
one hand at a time at the piano. By 
the time they have learned a piano 
composition they know every note 
and chord; they have mcntalizsd the 
make-up of the composition, and that 
is a far cry from the chancing-by-ear 
through a composition as does a great 
per cent of pupils. This means not 
only learning a piece of music: it 
means brain-training, it means devel- 
opment in concentration, in applica- 
tion and in inner-sight. Perkins 
Institution for the Blind is doing a 
great work for the community at 
large by the stress which is laid upon 
music here and by realizing its great 
power for creating happiness and its 
inestimable power for intellectual de- 
velopment and for developing those 
qualities of character which make for 
a rigidly trained brain capable of 
definite control and of consecutive 
concentration, for these are qualities 
which serve one well in any walk of 
life. Too much cannot be said of the 
effort which is made to make music a 
vital cultural force in the lives of these 
young people or of the ideal for 
which they are encouraged and helped 
to strive. 

A scholar's dav at this school is a 




busy one. A bell sounds at six in the 
morning. After a shower-bath and 
dressing, the pupils prepare the tables, 
and fifty minutes later finds the nine 
family groups seated at breakfast. 
The tables must then be cleared and 
the dishes washed, beds made, etc., 
by the pupils, and at eight o'clock 
all connected with the institution 
assemble in the chapel for the morning 
service. An inspirational service, it 
might well be called. An anthem is 
sung by the choir and later a simpler 
work in which all take part. There 
is Bible reading and all present recite 
the Lord's prayer. Mr. Allen, the 
director, then talks to them about 

something which he feels will help 
them to start the day with courage; 
sometimes it is poetry, sometimes 
about a man or woman whose life 
has been a force for good and for 
achievement, sometimes about the 
recent commendable achievement of 
some blind scholar who has met with 
distinction in the world to which he 
has gone out from Perkins or else- 
where. This whole morning service 
lasts about twenty minutes and it 
would be helpful in the life of any 
group of students. To these particular 
students it means much; it is the 
leaven of the day's work, a joining- 
together in good endeavor. Mr. Allen 



does not believe in using this as an 
occasion for discipline. If that be- 
comes necessary, the school is as- 
sembled at another hour. 

From the assembly the pupils go 
out to their various classes to be busy 
until the twelve o'clock bells send 
them to their cottages to have their 
dinner at 12.15. After the meal they 
clear away the tables, wash the dishes 
and do their various duties about 
the house, after which they go out 
into the closes for a stroll until time 
for classes again at. 1.30. Study hours 
cease at five o'clock and they may 
again play until supper, which is served 
at ten minutes before six. At 6.30, 
four times a week, after having cleared 
away their dishes, there is a study 

Looking over a seventh grade girl's 
schedule for the day 1 found: geog- 
raphy, grammar, arithmetic, reading, 
sewing, gymnasium, music and domes- 
tic science, — a busy day for any 
normally equipped girl. 1 believe 
after an hour's stay at Perkins any 
visitor would notice that these boys 
and girls are busy and /nippy. I 
believe these two words signify success 
and results. Any school which can 
show at almost every turn that its 
boys and girls are busy and happy in 
their school duties and in their school 
life, must needs be an educative fence. 
a force for good to its pupils and to 
the community at large. It is not 
only making blind children efficient, 
it is playing a vital force in the field 
of education, for it is of the quality 
that molds well and that bears fruit. 

Wednesday evenings there is an 
entertainment, oi the pupils devote 
their time to reading. And what good 
times they have together in the eve- 
nings. In one cottage the}' enjoyed 
their evening talks about the open 
fire so much that they contributed 
small coins and bought a pair of and- 
irons. They take much pleasure in 
the pictures on their walls and hang 
them with the greatest interest. Mr. 
Allen believes forcibly in the cultural 
influence upon the blind of the beauty 
which surrounds them but which thev 

cannot see. There is a quick 
from the blind to their surrounc 
Environment is a great function in 
their life. They may not see the 
beautiful thing- but they sense them 
keenly. The beaut}' of the ground-. 
of the building-, of the room- of the 
new Perkins will be an enlivening, 
a quickening force. The -urrounding- 
affect the teacher-, affect the rem 
of tea< her and visitors and the general 
mood of all who come within them, and 
these blind young people m I 
draw their mood from the Interpreta- 
tions which seeing eyes make for them. 
When a boj seems morose or ha- fallen 
to brooding over his lot as an unju-t 

one. Mr. Allen doe- not him 

nor talk to him about it. 1:. I 
he send- him. a- soon i | Ortunity 

comes, to show visitOI 
Institution. They remark 
beaut}- here and there and the:: 
thusiasm becomes contagious. Little 
by little the boy brightens and bj I 
time the visitors have gone his whole 
mood has invariably lightened 
he ha- beo <mc of th< . that he 

is in a very excellent place, and :. 
pride is in hi- soul. 

Fourteen \i Mr. Allen he 

shape the plan of the new building- 
of the Pennsylvaina Institution at 
Overbrook. He then laid his main 
emphasis on centralized control coi. : 
with a beautiful environment and the 
magnificent results which accrued 
have only convinced him that the 
young blind do respond to envii 
mental influences of all kinds. V. 
I to characterize Mr. Allen's policy 
I would say that he believes in the 
increased potentiality of the effective. 
the physically competent bod}-; that 
not only physical health is to be 
gained, but buoyant spirits, a temper 
that is productive because it is c - 
ducive to mental development. A 
by the open grounds of the new school. 
Mr. Allen has done an enormous work- 
in his introduction of athletics into 
the school in a more extensive and 
systematic way, the encouragement oi 
sports and playground work. He has in 
mind not only physical training bur 



the making for assurance and confi- 
dence. When a boy who thought he 
couldn't, finds he can sprint, he is 
just that much the more sure of him- 
self and of that much of a gain in the 
realization that "obstacles are things 
to be overcome." 

Another point emphasized and put 
to a more unfailing use by Mr. Allen 
is his belief that the daily service 
which they can render to others and 
towards their own keep at school 
counts for more in the effort to nor- 
malize them and in preparing them 
for living than does the pursuit of any 
instruction. It is from service that 
they come to believe in themselves. 
It is from service that they come to feel 
competent and responsible and able 
to learn. Their brains can take on as 
much of instruction as their temper, 
their mood, their introspective opinion 
of themselves has faith in. Mr. Allen 
has also brought about a certain 
wholesome measure of freedom for 
them and it has had a quickening 
effect surely. Lastly, but of extreme 
importance, is his staunch stand for 
the cultural effect of the beautiful 
upon them, as before mentioned. 

Perkins Institution has not been 
built for more pupils but for better 
service to all. It is a place of attrac- 
tion to those who live and labor there, 
to those who come there and whose 
presence and mood lingers after them, 
a pride and an inspiration to the public, 
who must needs be the future employ- 
ers of these young people when they 
go out from here. After all, the spiritual, 
the cultural forces — and the joy of 
service is one of them — • are the strong- 
est shapers of their destiny. The 
forces for sweetness and for light are 
the quickeners of their character and 
of their mental acumen and accom- 
plishment. Under Mr. Allen these 
forces for sweetness and light are 
constantly held out to them, for he 
believes sincerely in their power. The 
great pealing bells, the mental image 
in their minds of their own massive 
and beautiful tower, the river below, 
free open air, the trees, the helpful, 

earnest and devoted teachers and 
housemothers, the opening service 
as Mr. Allen conducts it, the lifting 
of their voices in harmonious song at 
the beginning of their day's work, the 
music which they occasionally may go 
out to hear, the lightened mood which 
their dancing lessons give them, — - 
these are only a mentioning of some 
of the forces which help to put sweet- 
ness and light into these young folk 
and to give them courage to want to 

Here is a laboratory which is in- 
ci easing the per cent of efficiency of 
those who go out into the world and 
it will continue to increase the value 
of its results. Up to the coming of 
Mr. Allen as Director of Perkins, 
so much emphasis was placed upon 
the kindergarten that it has always 
been promoted by fund and by atten- 
tion far more than has the upper school. 
The upper school in facilities and intent 
has made far strides since then and 
there is no reason to believe that 
it will fail of needed resources. The 
alumni who returned, a few days ago 
to present to Bennett Cottage, at the 
Dedicatory exercises, a clock, a picture 
and a mantel carving along with their 
fervid and worthy praise, were a testi- 
mony to the work that Perkins Insti- 
tution has done and is doing with 
increasing result. 

Those who have contributed to this 
monument of service which stands 
without our city's gates must indeed 
be proud. Built high as a fortress, of 
up-reaching striving and ideals, making 
for lives that can labor and be glad, 
and for souls that have faith, the 
Perkins Institution for the Blind 
stands worthy and deserving, not 
because she is an institution for the 
blind, but because in policy, in effort, 
in achievement, she makes for the 
realer quality of education, because 
she has, ever and constantly, the 
fundamental function of education 
in mind, — ■ not to know, but to serve; 
not to grow beyond labor, but to grow 
with labor and to be patient in heart 
and in task. 




A maiden looked in at my window 

A goddess most fair to i 
Again and again to my window 

The maiden fair, came she, 
\\ iih wonder and longing to greet her, 
I rose, and stepped to meel her, 

The maiden, (), where was she? 

Ah, surely I must have been drean 
Alseep in my great armchair. 

And 'twas hut a fancy or seeming 
I took for a maiden fair. 

\ e1 , vision as lovely as i 

Or painter or sculptor could show it, 
I saw at t he window there. 

\l\ face to the \\ indow then l urn 
I sank in the great aim-chair. 

My soul in a transport, still yearning 
To gaze on th ; s maiden fair; 

Sw eet odors fr< >m pale r< »ses 

Enwrapped all my senses and feeling, 
And mellowed the summer air. 

Then out from the mythical ages, 
A goddess and nymphs as bright 

As pictured on old Homer's 

Passed swiftly before my sight. 

On — on to the chase swiftly speeding, 

My longing and sighing unheeding, 
Aglow with celestial light! 

vision of beaut}- most splend I 
O nymphs of surpassing grace! 

Where every perfection was blended 

Divinely in form and face. 
My being with ecstasy thrilling. — - 

1 woke, and the round moon was rilling 

W ith radiance the room and peace. 

The Prospect Union 



THERE still prevails in the world 
a centuries-old notion that 
any school for the study of 
high branches of learning and 
culture is essentially a body apart, 
alien from, and indifferent to the in- 
terests of the common people. Like- 
wise, another popular superstition 
regards the possession of wealth as 
a proof of arrogance; each impression 
nurtured by the careless reports of 
many daily journals and the embittered 
speech of agitators, and persisting 
absurdly in the face of increasing 
beneficence, that is maintained, could 
only be maintained by those whom 
rumor accuses of snobbery. It is a 
spirit akin to that which tortured pre- 
revolutionary France, thrice malicious 
on this side of the Atlantic in a land 
that aims to cherish the nobility of 
public service, and that provides for 
every man, woman, and child in its 
domain suitable avenues to the knowl- 
edge which makes high service possible. 
But the constructive writer, or 
teacher, is fain to believe such notions 
are gradually disappearing, as the 
earnest student of civic and social 
conditions realizes they justly should 
disappear. Time was, truly, when the 
rich preyed upon the poor, the learned 
disdained the ignorant. To-day it is 
the rich who support the great benevo- 
lences that transform existence into 
life for the poor and the ill-born; it 
is the educated who inspire the earth- 
clod and uplift the illiterate. Under 
the standard of universal education, 
the gulf between the people and the 
schools has been securely bridged, so 
that what the government of this land 
does not offer in its class-rooms is 

supplied by private enterprise or 
through some lyceum or college ex- 
tension. Across the Charles, in Cam- 
bridge, there is an institution which 
is more intimate and broader than 
mere college extension effort, — the 
Prospect Union, which has no parallel 
in the world at present. It is not col- 
lege settlement work like that of the 
University of Pennsylvania, nor even 
a men's club like that in London. It 
has a quality and a standard of its own. 

The Prospect Union is an associa- 
tion of workingmen and of students 
and teachers from Harvard Univer- 
sity, on a basis of common manhood 
and in the spirit of brotherhood. There 
are afternoon and evening classes 
taught by Harvard students in ele- 
mentary, high school, and college 
subjects; lectures by members of the 
Harvard faculty and other prominent 
persons; musical and other entertain- 
ments; debates, athletics, and a cordial 
social fellowship. Teachers and lec- 
turers give their services. Working- 
men who are active members pay 
for all privileges of the Union a fee of 
two dollars a year. 

Robert Erskine Ely, a minister, 
whose parish work was among the 
poorer families of Cambridge, and 
Prof. Francis Greenwood Peabody 
of Harvard, founded the Union twenty- 
two years ago, Mr. Ely opening rooms 
in the old Prospect House on Massa- 
chusetts Avenue, Cambridge, for the 
first meetings of its members. Until 
that time the two chief communities 
of the region, wage-earners and college 
men, had lived geographically near 
each other, yet spiritually widely 
separated, and mutually misappre- 




hending. To the wage-earner, the 
university seemed an aristocratic in- 
stitution in nowise conscious of or 
interested in his welfare; the Harvard 
student, absorbed in his personal 
affairs, did not know of the struggles 
of the workingman, or guess that 
many a brawny fellow who toiled with 
his hands all day hungered for in- 
tellectual opportunities, or had ideals 
and problems worthy to be shared. 
The new Union brought such men to- 
gether on a footing of mutual confi- 
dence and respect. The name as- 
sumed came of the building in which 
they met, and has been preserved for 
its historical association since the 
Union occupied its own quarters in 
the building that was formerly the 
Cambridge City Hall. 

From forty-four original members 
the Union has increased to an annual 
membership of more than five hundred, 
of whom over ninety per cent are 
doing work in the classes. There are 
one hundred teachers, all of them, 
except those that instruct in stenogra- 
phy and two or three similar subjects, 
being from the law school, the various 
graduate departments, and the upper 
classes at Harvard. Now one might 
suppose these teachers must be 
"grinds, " or else men working their 
way through college, such as are drawn 
upon for the public evening schools. 
Not at all. Consider that they give 
their services at the Prospect Union. 
Many a man who is working his way 
through college cannot afford the time 
he would otherwise gladly bestow for 
the help of some other man less fortu- 
nate than he. Moreover, the spirit 
of the Prospect Union demanded the 
commingling of elements more widely 
separated as a step toward the amelio- 
ration of social conditions, and it has 
accomplished its purpose with re- 
markable success. In a very quiet 
way, never advertised or made con- 
spicuous in the public press, the 
Union has gone from year to year 
welding the chains of sympathy around 
the men who labor with their hands 
and those who labor with their 

The motto of "Freedom, brother- 
hood, unity," is worked out as scrup- 
ulously as enthusiastically. 

The Prospect Union lias become a 
kind of forum, in which every man's 
question may be fairly discussed, pro- 
vided only a revolution by physical 
force be not advocated, or matt* ■ 
religious creed involved. As the 
teachers have represented the best 
elements in the student bod;. 
Harvard, so the numerous spea 
who have addressed the audi- 

ences, represent always the 
forensic energies of the period. Be- 
sides frequent Lectures by : 
and member vara faculty, 

and the faculties of nei. 
leges and ^ch'.t'ls, and \ nent 

lecturers of the the I': 

Union has listened to William 1 
Garrison, 1 igei e V. Del I, Prince 
Kropotkin, Thomas Wentw* rth I 
ginson, John Fiske, Hamlin Garland, 
Washington Gladden, Dr. Lyman Ab- 
bott, Julia Ward Howe, Lucy Stone, 
Rabbi Charles Fleischer. 1)-. v ;:muel 
Crothers, Dr. Eliot, and a score of 
others whose names are honored from 
sea to sea. The topics discussed have 
been as varied as the personalities of 
the speakers. Arguments about the 
single tax or woman suffrage or elec- 
tricity have been outrivalled often by 
dissertations on ancient Babylon, the 
realistic novel, sources of h: 
and lessons from New England history. 
Your working man is an appreciative 
listener, give him but a chance to 
compose his mind. Sometimes he 
brings his wife to hear the lecture, and 
they weigh it together and digest it 
for months to come. 

He is not so intensely radical as 
some suppose, the workingman. His 
beliefs and superstitions are usually 
mere echoes of what he has heard from 
his youth up, clearly the training of 
ignorance not wilfully ignorant. At 
the Prospect Union, in contact with 
men of different ways of think 
different occupations, different social 
status, different experience of life, 
and in contact with books, his preju- 
dices disappear and he becomes a 



better husband and father, a better 
citizen, a happier and more hopeful 
human being in the position in life in 
which he is stationed. Is he a for- 
eigner, unable to speak in the tongue 
of the land? In company with five 
or six other men in a similar predica- 
ment, he receives an hour an evening, 
twice a week, possibly four or five 
hours, of personal instruction in Eng- 
lish, and with industry finds himself, 
in the course of a year, well initiated 
into the mysteries of that formidable 
language, — and at the same time es- 
tablished within the safe fortification 
of an accurate and appreciative com- 
prehension of American principles, so 
that he has grown unconsciously into 
the stature of good citizenship. Such 
as he will never play the demagogue 
to illiterate immigrants, or join in 
demonstrations against government. 

Perhaps he is an aspiring young 
teamster, who feels sure he could enter 
the government employ if he only had 
an adequate stock of arithmetic, 
grammar, etc., to pass civil service 
examinations. At the Prospect Union 
that need is supplied in generous meas- 
ure by the very athletic star whose 
name he had been accustomed to read 
with awe on the sporting page of his 
newspaper. Or he is a jolly Irishman, 
with a family of lively boys and girls, 
whom he is striving to send through 
high school, aroused to interest in 
study by the animated talk of his 
children, out of which he was more or 
less tactfully excluded. There is some 
one at the Union to teach him the 
intricacies of grammar, to guide him 
through spelling, and show him how 
to "think on paper." 

Thus, instruction at the Prospect 
Union is adapted to the needs of de- 
ficient industrial training. Courses of 
study and class work are elastic 
enough to suit individual cases, though 
planned on a systematic basis, and 
announced ahead each fall. Over 
sixty courses of primary, intermediate, 
grammar, academic, and sometimes 
of college rank are offered. These are 
based upon what experience has shown 
is a fairly constant demand. But from 

time to time new classes or temporary 
classes are formed, sometimes com- 
prising only two members, teacher 
and pupil, — so ready is the Union to 
help each inquiring mind. Last year, 
for instance, a young Jew expressed 
his desire to study Hebrew. It was not 
difficult to find a suitable teacher, and 
soon the ambitious youth brought 
several friends, who pursued the sub- 
ject through the winter with mutual 
profit, and won certificates on closing 
night for excellence of work. Then 
there was a class in pedagogy, wherein 
three pupils kept the interest and in- 
spiration of their teacher throughout 
the twenty-five weeks of the two terms. 

Another man, with kindly coaching, 
succeeded in passing the Harvard 
examinations in June, 1911. Nor is 
this so rare an example as one might 
presume. There are two Union-taught 
men in Tufts, one in his second year; 
another chose Bates College in Maine, 
and is making good progress. Most 
of the men, however, who join Pros- 
pect Union classes, if they prepare for 
any school of academic or higher grade, 
generally choose the various technical 
institutions. Several have gone hence 
to the Lowell Institute lectures well 
equipped to make the most of that 
splendid college extension. Others pre- 
pare for various medical and law 
schools, and for schools of science. 

The membership, since the founda- 
tion of the Union, represents more than 
two hundred manual and clerk occu- 
pations, and this year includes over 
twenty different nationalities, among 
them one Japanese working student. 
There is an age limit — boys under 
seventeen are barred as too youthful 
to be responsibly earnest. Several 
of the men are more than sixty-five 
years of age; the majority average 
about twenty-six. They may be of 
every possible creed and tongue and 
race, for in the Prospect Union building 
dwells eternal democracy. Black meets 
white, Catholic meets Jew, Democrat 
meets Conservative, in a spirit of friend- 
liness inconceivable to one who has not 
investigated in what a wonderful way 
the Union lives out its motto. 



The men become interested in the 
Union, not only for themselves, but 
for their friends and relatives, so that 
the good work extends constantly. 
An incident that happened only a few 
days ago illustrates this. A youth 
had heard of the nice pool and billiard 
tables at the Union, and recently 
sought membership. He often dropped 
in to play a game, but parried all sug- 
gestions that he join a class or two, 
which would cost nothing further, and 
was clearly needed, since he had left 
school when in the seventh grammar 
grade. One noon, between the hours 
of work, and full half an hour before 
the regular opening hour of the Union, 
at one o'clock, the youth sought the 
president of the Union, bringing his 
father, whom, he said, he had per- 
suaded to join the Union. He added 
that they were both going to join the 

A number of the members, though 
they might be called plain working- 
men, have experienced most interesting 
and lively adventures in various lands. 
Many of them have traveled into some 
of the wildest and least known quarters 
of the earth. Some have merely 
knocked about far and near. Quite 
a number were in the Spanish War in 
Cuba or the Philippines, others in the 
Boer War. One is the son of a British 
army officer, who retired years ago to 
a business life in South Africa. The 
son served England in the Boer War, 
and came to America during the un- 
settled period that followed. The 
specially interesting fact about him 
is that he was born in the house on St. 
Helena in which the great Napoleon 
died. He is considered a real genius 
in the dramatic and musical activities. 
"He is a mighty clean, strong chap," 
pronounces the president of the Union, 
proudly adding: "We have many such 
men, of whom this country will never 
have cause to be ashamed." Clearly, 
the atmosphere of the Prospect Union 
is favorable to immigration of any 
worthy foreigner, whether he is edu- 
cated or not, provided only he is 
morally and physically suitable. One 
of the Spanish War veterans is a letter 

carrier from Watertown, whose char- 
acter has been commended in strong 
terms. He and his wife are amofl 
reliable promoters of the da: 
classes. An adventurer from the Phil- 
ippines is a prominent n. A the 
debating team. 

The high reputation of the Union is 
spreading in the quit I nt man- 

ner that presages greater and 

usefulness for the future. [tl object 
is in no way rivalry of 
schools or of the many settlement and 
other benevolent educational enter- 
pri es. It does □ individual, 

unique work. \\ herein it might be 
suspected of rivalry, it is found only 
to have proved available and 


To illustrate its reputed value 
a trainer of the ambitious mind, note 
this typical example: a Milton man, 
who has been studying chemistry and 
mathematics at I D during the 

past two wim ere, ien- 

tific employment, where such k:. 
edge is of much practical value to him. 
I Ii- manager was approached the other 
day by a man who sought advice 
about a school suitable to teach him 
certain subjects he needs to learn. 
The manager remarked that he him- 
self had acquired his training through 
the correspondence school, but that 
it had cost him three hundred dollars. 
That seemed too expensive for the 
man. Turning to his employee, the 
manager remarked that here was a 
man who had been studying in some 
sort of a Union, and asked him to tell 
the inquirer about it. The Milton 
man told of his work at the Prospect 
Union, and what further could be 
acquired there. The inquirer is about 
to enroll at the Union. 

To revert once more to the student 
teachers, — in them one discovers qual- 
ities of fine manhood, of lofty purpose, 
and of genuine human sympathy the 
unacquainted mind presumes could 
not exist in the young man. In them 
one discovers also that the tribute of 
present-day standards is not so far 
misdirected as some would have us 
believe; since our belaureled athlete 



is pretty sure to be wearing the poet's 
or the scholar's chaplet as well. Most 
of the teachers are mature men, 
chiefly from the law and the graduate 
schools, and all qualified to present a 
strong, manly argument on any of the 
large subjects of the day. They are 
not whippersnapper sophomores, who 
think they know it all, and would 
count as a big lark the chance to visit 
the Union and lord it over un-college 
men. Many of them have already 
had good experience as teachers, fre- 
quently have traveled about a good 
deal and learned to know men and 

The famous intercollegiate champion 
pole vaulter, Nelson, of Yale, 1911, 
is doing graduate work at Harvard 
this year, and is one of the Union's 
most valued instructors. Mr. Mc- 
Dermott, who so ably supervises all 
the classes and directs the entire edu- 
cational department of the Union 
work, is a Princeton man, who has 
distinguished himself in the Harvard 
Law School and as president of the 
Woodrow Wilson Club. He was chosen 
recently by Harvard to represent the 
Law School in Montreal at a conven- 
tion of law schools held there. Colonel 
Roosevelt's cousin taught at the Lmion. 
So do still the sons of ex-Governor 
Hughes and ex-Governor Draper. Mr. 
W. H. Capen, who teaches electricity, 
is a Phi Beta Kappa man, — ■ that an- 
nounces brilliance of scholarship. So 
is the man who taught Hebrew to those 
industrious Jews last winter; he took 
high honors in Semitic languages, and 
has gone to Germany on a fellowship 
to continue his studies. Hasty Pud- 
ding men are far from unknown at 
the Prospect Union, and the "gold 
coast" is not too remote for acquain- 
tance. Indeed, it is not the working- 
man alone who gains from such as- 
sociation: one of the teachers says 
forcibly — "Among other things the 
student has brought the workingman 
knowledge, culture, ambition, sympa- 
thy, and friendship; and the working- 
man has given the student knowledge, 
patience, earnestness, and inspiration. 
May each year bring them closer to- 

gether and increase their respective 
powers of mutual helpfulness." 

The Prospect Union gives to its 
members much more than text-book 
instruction, its principles standing for 
harmonious development of the whole 
man rather than merely storing the 
mental shelves. Besides a comfort- 
able reading-room, therefore, stocked 
with some five hundred volumes of 
fiction and reference works, and numer- 
ous magazines and newspapers, the 
building contains a long living-room 
with tables for a quiet game of pool 
or billiards, a hall in which pleasant 
dancing classes and socials are held, 
and a really talented choral union 
practises, and industrious classes con- 
duct Swedish gymnastic exercises, 
also shower and tub baths. There is a 
baseball team, too, and a dramatic 

The social activities of the Union 
are of a very high order, and so di- 
rected that they are already demon- 
strating what the community needs 
to counteract many of the social 
maladies that trouble us to-day. For 
the dancing classes, the men are en- 
couraged to invite their women rela- 
tives and friends. This instruction 
began only two years ago, but was 
immediately successful, and has ex- 
panded now into two large regular 
classes with weekly social hops in the 
Union Hall, with suitable patronesses 
and masculine supervision to make 
everything as proper and pleasant as 
any one could wish. Indeed, there 
seems to be little tendency towards 
disorder. The men appreciate the 
need of acquiring good party manners 
as quickly as possible, and the girls 
are not unresponsive — or should one 
reverse this statement? Music is pro- 
vided by an orchestra of five instru- 
ments made up of Union members. 
For the larger socials, which occur 
from time to time, the Prospect Union 
orchestra, which plays for many public 
affairs in and about Boston, provides 
excellent music. 

Correct dancing is recognized now 
by all sensible people as a very valu- 
able method of developing self-respect 



and self-possession. The physical in- 
structor will tell you that it develops 
body poise, grace and ease of motion. 

The physician will tell you that it 
exercises all the muscles without any 
undue strain and, therefore, promotes 
health. The educator will tell yon 
that it encourages love of poetry, of 
classic study, of good music, of Nature, 
— that it is altogether uplifting and 
desirable as a means of menial, moral 
and physical training. Finally, the 
drawing-room guest will tell you that 
if you possess any social instinct at 
all to prompt you to advance in the 
esteem of your best fellow men, — than 
which there is no more worthy human 
ambition, when it is not misdirected 
into sensational "society" competi- 
tion,— without ability to dance well 
you will remain an awkward flower 
on the wall of time. 

Almost every boy and girl is earl) 
fascinated by the rhythmic swing and 
sweep of the dance. II net trained 
and cultivated into the right channels, 
this fascination leads youth and maid 
of the unchaperoned home to the 
vulgar halls where they learn all that 
is undesirable and nothing that is 
good. The Prospect I nion dancing 
classes have shown that such young 
people, if invited to the right place in 
season, have no further fancy for the 
improper hall. He who has caught 
the happy inspiration of advocating 
schoolhouse social centers, ought to 
visit the Prospect Union Hall some 
evening when a hop is in progress and 
witness the pretty unfolding of manly 
gallantry and womanly courtesy in 
these merry gatherings. Note how 
that gentleman — yes, gentleman, if 
you please — hands his partner to her 
seat after the waltz; you never saw 
anything more genuinely correct at 
the Copley-Plaza. Compare his ease 
and her grace with the hesitant retreat 
of that stalwart Swede, who has 
brought his "best girl" to share the 
honors of his first social, and now, 
startled at the unexpected cessation 
of the music, leaves her standing in the 
middle of the floor while he flees self- 
consciously to a refuge behind several 

men. He won't be • ■ .mgly ill- 

mannered a few month- from . 
the first man we noted / .vard 

last year,- if you only could have 
seen him! 
The Prospect Union Hall ii not 

large a- it -hould be, if plan 
for making it useful in the neighbor- 
hood to the extent - 1 • ■ 
corporation intend-, therefore, 
down partitions and thn n the 

Upper Boor -pace, or to build an addi- 
tion to the building on available ad- 
joining land. The Union building 

it stands, i- entirely suitable for the 
. i required of it. with 
alterations. The- soical hall is quite 
twenty-fi\ e feet high. All tl i 
downstairs an- >>{ ample 
and framed 

building was i '•>r the use of the 

Cambridge athaeneum, which 11; ur- 
ished before the era of public lib:., 
and free lectures, back in tht 
Then ii passed into the ban I 
city government and was the Cam- 
bridge City Hall for a number 
After the new city hall 
the Pn >sped I fni jght 

the property with money left to them 
in 1887, by Miss Belinda M. Randall. 
in memory of her brother. John Ran- 
dall. It contain- several c 
vaults, where the city recoi 
once kept, now full of printei 
text-book-, and even of coats and hats. 
In the basement more vaults have been 
turned into convenient loci 
the gymnasium. 

One might write on for paragraphs, 
telling about the baseball team vic- 
tories, the Swedish gymnasium drills, 
the singing classes, the lively old- 
fashioned spelling bees, the earnest 
work of the dramatic committee. 
But one cannot till a magazine with 
a single subject. The strong feature 
which has attracted widest approba- 
tion of the Union work must, however, 
be mentioned. Special attention has 
always been directed to forensic abili- 
ties of the men, and regular work in 
debating is carried on with fervor. 
The most careful instruction is se- 
cured for this department, and the 



most vital and difficult questions dis- 
cussed. Last winter the Union de- 
bating team had the remarkable suc- 
cess of winning all six of its debates in 
the Greater Boston Debating League 
on both sides of the questions de- 
bated; its opponents, the Boston 
Y. M. C. A., the Y. M. C. U., the 
Civic Service House, having each a 
high reputation in argument. Mr. 
David C. Howard and Mr. H. F. 
Goodrich of the Harvard Law School 
coached the Prospect Union teams. 
The three questions debated were all 
of national import: "Resolved that 
the Sherman Anti-Trust Act Should 
be Repealed and a Commission Should 
be Appointed with Power to Subject 
Corporations to a Policy of Regulation 
Rather than Dissolution." " Resolved 
that Massachusetts Should Adopt the 
Initiative and Referendum." "Re- 
solved that the Closed Shop Policy of 
Labor Unions is Justifiable." 

The present arrangements between 

these four debating clubs stands for 
three years and Mr. Meyer Bloom- 
field, of the Vocation Bureau and Civic 
Service House, Boston, has offered a 
cup to the institution that wins the 
greatest number of their debates. 

Finally, there is the co-operation for 
the members of this fortunate Union 
of an able and somewhat altruistic 
body of Prospect Union Association 
membership, naming men of several 
of the honored families who guard 
the best social traditions of New Eng- 
land, under the executive leadership 
of a tactful and enthusiastic president 
of the Union, Mr. N. F. Van Horsen, 
and the joint trusteeship of the nro- 
perty, with Professor J. L. Coolidge, 
president of the association. 

There is abundant reason to believe 
that the Prospect Union will fulfil its 
aim: to become, as its officers think it 
should be, a strong social and civic center 
for all sorts of varying interests, when 
it will be actually "from many, one." 


From a photograph. Copyright by J. E. V 

Boston in the Philippines 

the author of a timely new 
book on the Philippines, called 
"The Philippine Problem," 
is a successful Boston lawyer and 
author. He is a graduate of Exeter 
(N. H.) Academy, and the Harvard 
Law School, and his journalistic experi- 
ence includes the post of Paris corres- 
pondent of the Boston Herald. 
Among other books, Mr. Chamberlin 
has written "The Blow from Behind," 
dealing with anti-imperialism; and a 
Southern novel, "The Shoe String 
Country. " He has studied the Philip- 
pine situation on the islands, where he 
was one of the first to interview Agui- 

naldo, and since his return. Mr. 
Chamberlin is now pursuing his literary 
work in London. His book on the 
Philippines has been widely com- 

Although Boston was the hot-bed 
of anti-imperialistic talk, no city has 
been more forward in all that pertains 
to the development of the Philippines, 
over the retention of which by the 
United States the contest was prin- 
cipally waged. Hon. Cameron W. 
Forbes, whose work has been so produc- 
tive of good, is a Bostonian and carries 
into his work the spirit of thorough- 
ness of a New England train- 

The Guardian 



'Gene the Gallant 

THE result of the fight with Pierre 
Bartineau, who was well known 
to all as a sturdy man with his 
fists, was to give 'Gene a place 
at once among his fellows. 
They had seen him fight fair and fight 
hard with a strength entitled to respect. 
Those who until now had looked 
askance at him either because of the 
town gossip or a certain shiftiness in his 
bearing revised their opinion before the 
testimony of their eyes and accepted 
him into their midst. Nat noticed this 
with a good deal of satisfaction and 
turned his attention to the problem 
of getting his pine started down the 
mountain side. 

As for 'Gene, his new position pleased 
him mightily. He felt himself a good 
deal of a hero and did considerable strut- 
ting. The mountain air cleansed his 
blood and his brain and put new vigor 
into his arms and legs. The exercise 
whetted his appetite, the simple food 
satisfied it, and he slept soundly. With 
this and the reaction from the tension 
of the previous week his spirits revived 
to a point where he did not find even 
the work irksome. At night, with the 
crowd gathered around the big wood 
stove, he added further to his prestige 
by recounting tales of his travels in the 
tropics. His fights grew at a pace 
equaling Falstaff's. It seemed as 
though his days on board the ship had 
been filled with nothing but mutiny 
and threatened piracy, while when on 
shore he had met with an adventure at 
every turn of the street. He was an 
acknowledged authority on tigers, and 
recounted such deeds of daring that 
all anecdotes of bears and mountain 
cats ventured by the others sounded 

Begun in the February, 1912, number. 

as tame as a description of the frolick- 
ing of house cats. Occasionally Nat sat 
on the outskirts of the group and lis- 
tened, but 'Gene's eyes were quick to 
spy him, so that the former never 
heard the choicest adventures. 

But in the stable 'Gene did not talk 
much and did not again hit the horses. 
That man Bartineau struck a chill to 
his heart. It was impossible to escape 
those stolid dark eyes. They met him 
at every turn and refused to alter, no 
matter what overtures 'Gene made. 
They seemed ever to be watching, ever 
to be waiting, and 'Gene knew that if 
matters came to a second fight it would 
be a harder fight than the first. There- 
fore, in spite of the knowledge of grow- 
ing strength, in spite of the prestige 
of one victory, he resisted every im- 
pulse to hit the horses. 

As for his relations with Julie, 'Gene 
was glad enough of a decent excuse of 
being out of the house for a while. The 
week before he left had been anything 
but pleasant. Silas looked as though 
he could murder him, while the two 
women haunted him like ghosts. Julie's 
face had remained as cold and white as 
death, even when she was most at- 
tentive. Every morning she waited 
breakfast for him and stood ready dur- 
ing the day to listen to whatever he 
had to say. But whether he pleaded 
or whether he sulked, whether he 
threatened or whether he spoke fair, 
made no difference. She answered 
him "Yes, 'Gene" and "No, 'Gene" 
without emotion. Every night before 
he went upstairs alone to the fair 
white room which had been her room 
she said simply, "Good-night, 'Gene." 
There was little joy in such conquest 
as this. And with all the romance 
gone from the episode, his own thoughts 
bothered him. Left alone in this 
fashion, he found himself haunted by 

Copyright, 1912, Small, Maynard & Co. 




still another woman's face. He saw 
again the shadowy bedroom of the 
little flat, and peering from the shadows 
the gray eyes of her he had left. They 
were even more difficult to understand 
than Julie's. 

But among the pines, where he had 
little time to brood over anything, he 
escaped them, for he was left so dog- 
tired at night that nothing came but 

So the first Saturday came, and with 
it a snow-laden gale that beginning at 
dawn swirled about the mountain all 
day. Before night some two feet of 
snow had fallen, and yet the storm 
raged only the fiercer. The pines 
drooped heavy with their white weight. 
It was the sort of day that made the 
prospect of Sunday seem very wel- 
come to all hands. But at two o'clock 
that afternoon Nat strode up to 'Gene, 
as the latter leaned on his axe to watch 
a big pine topple over at which he had 
been hewing for an hour, and said as 
simply as though it were only the 
matter of stepping around the corner: 

" Ye'd better be startin', 'Gene." 

"Startin' for where?" demanded 

"For home." 

"Home? Ye don't think I'm goin' 
back to St. Croix this sort of weather." 

"You are goin' back to your wife 
over Sunday," nodded Nat. 

'Gene glared at him a moment and 
turned away. 

"Well, I'm not," he anwsered. 

"Then ye're ready to fight?" in- 
quired Nat. 

"Fight?" exploded 'Gene. "Can't 
ye think of nothin' else? Has a man 
got to keep fightin' here for his rights?" 

"He's got to keep fightin' to go ag'in 
his rights," answered Nat very delib- 
erately. "Julie is expectin' ye." 

"Expectin' me?" laughed 'Gene. 
"Good Lord, don't ye know — " 

But 'Gene didn't finish. He saw 
that Nat didn't know, and some in- 
stinct warned him that it was better 
he should not know. Some instinct 
and some remnant of pride warned 
him to keep silent on this point. His 
brother probably thought the girl was 

head over heels in love with him. So 
long as he thought that — well, it gave 
him a weapon anyway. He made a 
little experiment in order to watch its 

"I s'pose she is," he said slowly. 
"Girls are queer, aren't they? I ex- 
pect she's been cryin' half the time just 
because I had to go away." 

Nat winced. The pain of the pic- 
ture left his face as bloodless as though 
he had been hit. Well pleased with 
the result, 'Gene persisted. 

"She's got her father and mother, 
but that don't make no difference. 
When a man's away from his woman 
or a woman's away from her man, the 
house don't seem the same." 

Nat drew back as though to es- 

"Nat," 'Gene followed him up, "ye 
don't know what 'tis to have a pair of 
warm arms around yer neck — arms 
like Julie's." 

"For Gawd's sake," exclaimed Nat, 
"don't talk like that! It ain't decent." 

"Wait till ye get a wife like Julie," 
answered 'Gene maliciously. 

"Get out of here! Get back to her," 
Nat shouted. 

"If it was possible, Nat, I'd go. 
There ain't nothin' would stop me. 
But with the snow like this — " 

He leveled his eyes upon his brother. 
The frozen bits of ice swept into his 
face. He shook his head. 

Nat took him by the shoulder and 
turned him round. 

" Ye'll go back to St. Croix to-night," 
he choked. "Ye'll start this minute." 

" Ye want to kill me ? " whined 'Gene. 

Nat lifted his fist. 

"Get out!" he cried. 

'Gene threw down his axe and 
stumbled off. Nat watched him until 
he was out of sight, and then, finding 
Bartineau, gave a half-dozen orders. 

"I sha'n't be back until Monday 
morning," he concluded. 

"Sacre! Ye aren't goin' home in 
such a devil's storm as this?" 

Without replying Nat turned into the 
pines and, picking up 'Gene's tracks, 
followed after. He had no idea of 
trusting the boy to get home alone, for 



in the first place 'Gene's heart might 
fail him and he would then stop at the 
first farmhouse'; in the second place 
his legs might fail him and he might 
die by the roadside. For Julie's sake 
that must not be, so long as 'Gene's, life 
was precious to her, so long must 'Gene 
live; so long must he be responsible 
for 'Gene's life. There was much work 
waiting for him that he had planned to 
do between this time and Monday 
morning, but that did not count against 
this heavier duty. 

For the first three miles down the 
crude road which led to the foot of 
Eagle, Nat kept his brother in sight 
without being seen himself. 'Gene 
took the journey with little heart. He 
walked slowly with much resting and 
did not stand up sturdily against the 
whipping gusts of wind. He swore a 
great deal in frenzied anger at the ob- 
stacles in his path instead of meeting 
them with a challenge. In this spirit a 
man cannot walk far; in this spirit he 
is easily overcome. 

So 'Gene came to the foot of the 
mountain and into the main road. It 
had taken him almost two hours when 
he should have done it in less than an 
hour. Nat, at his heels, grew im- 
patient, and though a half-dozen times 
upon the point of urging him on thought 
better of it. So 'Gene came to the 
home of Timothy Dutton towards 
four in the afternoon. Here he paused 
a moment and then, walking to the 
door, knocked. He was evidently 
given welcome, for the door opened 
and he went in. But Nat buttoned 
his reefer close about his throat and 
squatted in the snow outside. He 
gave the boy time to get warm and 
come out again, but still the door re- 
mained closed. Then he followed 
after, and in response to Timothy's 
welcome strode into the kitchen, 
where he found 'Gene with his coat, 
hat and boots off sitting before the 
stove. Near him sat the youngsters 
Josh and Ebenezer, with the blood high 
in their cheeks from the tales to which 
they had been listening. 

"Kind of expected the bridegroom 
K> be out a night like this, but what in 

thunder takes you home, Nat?" ex- 
claimed Timothy. 

'Gene rose from his chair and faced 
his brother. 

"I have business at St. Croix," 
answered Nat. 

"Well, I reckon it ain't more pres- 
in' than 'Gene's, and he allows that 
he'll spend the night here. Ye'd better 
stay too." 

"A man's a fool to try to get to St. 
Croix to-night," growled 'Gene. 

"Maybe," answered Nat curtly. 

"Ye don't mean to say, now, ye are 
goinn' to try it?" put in Mrs. Dutton, 
bustling up. "Land sakes, there's 
room in that bed for two of ye. I've 
just opened it up to air." 

"You're good," answered Nat. "But 
I guess we'd better go on." 

Mrs. Dutton smiled benignly. 

"Now don't tell you've gone and 
fallen in love yourself, Nat," she an- 

"Isn't there anything else that 
would take a man out in a storm?" he 

"Love and death — in a storm like 
this," answered Mrs. Dutton. "There 
ain't no sickness in the family?" 

"No," Nat assured her. 

"Then ye'd better stay till morning, 
'cause love will wait," she concluded. 

He shook his head rather soberly. 

"It doesn't wait no more than 
death," he replied. 

He buttoned up his reefer and 
glanced again at 'Gene. The latter, 
with his back to the stove, was evi- 
dently relying on a belief that Nat 
would refuse to make a scene here. 
But a second look at his broethr's face 
gave scant hope. 

I'Come," said Nat. "It's harder 
goin' every minute." 

"Go along if ye want," growled 

'Gene turned to the others, as though 
for support, but they remained silent. 
Both Mr. and Mrs. Dutton caught an 
expression in the older brother's face 
which told them that here was some 
crisis which would brook no interven- 
tion. They waited uneasily. 'Gene 
reached for his boots and drew them on. 

{Continued on page 201) 

The Vanishing Birds 


The birds being gone, the caterpillars, 

From all restraint, began to enlarge their 

The chafer in the wheat his larva laid; 
Dark weevils, mustering like the Cossac 

Upon each leaf, and blackened every 

Scorched up, as though by arson, sword 

or plague, 
Our land lies sickening through every 

Our children pine beneath the winged 

Our cattle starve upon the hills — nay, 

The foe, swollen up to monstrous size i 

now seems 
Hideous and huge as nightmares in our 

Food he no longer finds in fruit or flower ', 
But, pressed for sustenance, must now 

Man, man himself I 


"The Paradise of Birds" 

CYNTHIA says that she dates 
her revolt from orthodox}' to 
the day when, as a wondering 
child, she looked up to the high 
pulpit and heard an excited minister 
address his hearers as "Rebel Worms''! 
Rebel she might be, for she did not 
know the meaning of the term, but a 
worm never! She expressed, thence- 
forth, a preference for the liberal house 
of prayer which her father attended, 
and, holding his hand, wended her way 
to a spot wherein the congregation 
might be more gently entreated. 

Cynthia has a horror of all crawling 
things, a greater horror than other 
women, seemingly, which she herself ex- 
plains by saying that she is of a primitive 
type and near enough to Eve to re- 
member the serpent. 

"The worm is your brother, Cyn- 
thia," I say to her, gravely. 

"He is not!" she stoutly protests, 
"I haven't one atom of kinship with 
him, and I believe if he had ever made 
one single effort to walk upright in all 
the ages since he was born, he wouldn't 


be crawling no. 

just like sin feci-, and you c< 

me believe he couldn't be different, if 

he tried." 

unhappy accident 1 took ( 
thia, mo to a dearly ren 

New England village, which we found, 
the morning after our arrival, t 
besieged by the armies of the tent t ; 
pillar. Never had such a thing been 
known in the neighborhood when "the 
street-musicians of ti. 
as our golden-thi tlowcalli 

the birds, "filled all the blosftomin 
chards with their gl© hilars 

dropped on Cynthia as she walked; 
she brushed one off her neck, she 
found one '.n a gown hanging in the 
closet, she | ,f cater- 

pillars and saw them, as Courthope 
wollen up to monstrous size 
and huge as nightmares." We waged 
war upon them with c :nple 

device we knew, but the public — such 
public as there was — did no* 
us and our neighbors' nests hung full 
of loathly worms when our own had 
been destroyed. The orchard was 
speedily stripped of leaf and blossom, 
and the discouraged trees stood wait- 
ing for a possible return of vigor that 
they might clothe themselves again. 

But where were the birds of my 

''The thrush that carols at the dawn c: 

From the green steeples of the ;>d; 

The oriole in the elm; the noisy 

Jargoning like a foreigner at his food; 
The bluebird balanced on some topmost ip 

Flooding with melody the neighborhood; 
Linnet and meadow-lark, and all the tl 

That dwell in nests and have the gift of 5 

I recalled the old gray barn of my 
childhood: the crowding nests dotted 
along its beams, and the soft flutter 
and swoop of wings, as the swallows 
swept in and out through the friendly 
doors. I remembered the clay-bank 
where we sought material for our 
rude sculpture, and the holes with 
which it was riddled where the sand- 
martens had their dwelling. I re- 
membered the goldfinches, daintily 
feeding on the wayside thistles, the 
bobolinks rippling above the June 




grasses, the catbirds in the hedge of 
spirea, the red-winged blackbirds on 
the road to the meeting-house, and a 
multitude cf feathered people too 
small and inconspicuous in dress to be 
recalled by name. I remembered, 
with a yet more poignant sweetness, 
those day-dawns, fresh and glistening, 
as in a world new-made, when a 
drowsy child turning on his pillow 
heard that "earliest pipe of half- 
awakened birds" which to the ear that 
listens is at once dewy with tears and 
blossoming with gladdess. 

To-day, the birds were few and their 
appearance about the house a thing 
to be remarked. The barn-swallows 
had disappeared, the sand-martens 
had gone, nobody had seen a bobolink 
that summer. The orioles had ceased 
to hang their cradles in the elm trees, 
and even the swifts no longer thundered 
in the chimneys and tumbled their 

ill-made nests with their hissing 
progeny down upon the hearthstones. 
Our farmer-host agreed that the 
birds were few and growing fewer, but 
traced no connection between this 
fact and the blight of worms that lay 
upon the village. He was still in the 
untutored state wherein a bird meant 
to him, wherever found, a robber of 
the strawberry patch and the cherry 
tree, a marauder in the cornfield and 
a fit prey for the cunning of the preda- 
tory cat. Of the birds as "winged 
wardens of the farms," he had no real 
impression, although he knew as a 
matter of daily experience of the gal- 
lant service they did in fighting the 
host of crawling plagues about him. 
It is true in this instance, as in many 
others, that we often know the least 
of that which immediately surrounds 
us. Cynthia, fired by her loathing of 
the creepers and crawlers, immedi- 



ately began to layout a course of bird 
study for the rural schools. This was 
to be supplemented by a wholesale 
distribution of tracts on the subject, 
the money for which was to be raised 
by heavy fines imposed upon all 
women who wore any feathers, save 
those of cocks and ostriches, in their 
headgear. With the manner in which 
this was to be collected she did not 
concern herself, saying loftily that 
both to originate and carry out a great 
idea seldom lay within the province 

links near Philadelphia in a single 
month. England imports between 
twenty-five million and thirty million 
birds a year. Altogether, it is esti- 
mated that between two hundred mil- 
lion and three hundred million birds 
perish each year to trim the hats of 
the women of the world." 

It happened that I was born in 
Pennsylvania, but I abjured my native 
state when I learned from Cynthia 
that the dealers in egret plumes are 
carrying on their horrible trade in 


of one mind. One of her tracts was 
to be entitled, "The Millinery Slaugh- 
ter-House," and was to begin with 
the following figures which she had 
cut from a paper known as "The 
Animals' Friend." "Ten million birds 
a year," says this periodical, "are 
required to supply the women of the 
United States with suitable hat trim- 
ming; forty thousand terns in a single 
season on Cape Cod, a million bobo- 

Philadelphia, since they are barred 
out from New York and New Jersey. 
"Their mail-order business," says a 
bird-defender, "is with women who 
think they make themselves beautiful 
by carrying on their heads a souvenir 
of a mother-bird killed, and her 
fledglings left to starve!" 

The ire of our host was kindled by 
the massacre of the bobolinks, one of 
the few birds he really knew and loved, 




and he volunteered, in case Cynthia's 
plan should work, to collect her tax 
for her, or, in lieu of it, to hale non- 
payers to the nearest jail. 

It appeared from Cynthia's reading 
on the subject that the Southern 
states were more in need of bird- 
defenders than any others in our do- 
main, and that the cannibalistic dwel- 
lers therein literally ate up migrating 
birds who were trusting to their hos- 
pitality for the winter season. Cyn- 
thia's all-embracing scheme included a 
motor-car built on the plan of those 
that distribute railway eruides in 

cities, and liberally stocked with bird- 
tracts to be distributed as the car 
rolled rapidly along the Southern 
highways. One of these sulphurous 
squibs for the sunny South, as we 
called them, was to be entitled: ''The 
Slaughter of the Innocents." and was 
to begin with the following q 

Are you a robin-cater: 

Do you prepare bluebirds on I 
for your family: 

Does a broiled bobolink suit your 

Do blackbirds in a pie appeal to you? 



If you are not eating them your 
neighbors must be, for 


Mr. E. H. Forbush, ornithologist 
for the State of Massachusetts, and 
representative of the National & 
Audubon Societies in New England, 
has lately published a significant state- 
ment, in the course of which he says: 
"Many small birds are killed by the 
Southern people. Last winter many 
persons took advantage of the neces- 
sities of the blackbirds and bluebirds. 
The city council of Pittsboro, North 
Carolina, rescinded an ordinance for- 
bidding shooting within the city limits, 
that the people might shoot the birds 
that were driven by the stress of 
weather to that town to feed on berries, 
and about four thousand robins were 
killed in a short time. Quantities of 
blackbirds and bobolinks have been 
killed in the Carolinas by negroes, and 
these birds are sold in the Southern 

Oh, unhappy North Carolina ! Build 
a monument in Pittsboro and place 
upon it a perpetually weeping figure 
with a slaughtered robin in her hand. 
Four thousand joyous, useful lives, 
four thousand ruddy breasts, four 
thousand liquid throats carolling in 
the tree-tops, and all to fill some 
greedy stomachs that would better 
have gone to bed fasting. 

"Oh, the pity of it, Horatio!" 

Another of these sulphurous squibs 
Cynthia plans to distribute in the 
West, calling it there, "Caution to 
Callous Californians," or something of 
that nature. She learned that an 
up-to-date drug store had been built 
and expensively equipped in Santa 
Barbara, altogether from the sale of 
humming birds for millinery purposes, 
and likened the affair to the cementing 
of stones in ancient days with the 
blood of innocents. Beginning her 
tract with this statement she was 
easily able to make a telling pamphlet 
whose shafts would pierce the thickest 

Inspired by the effect of her elo- 

quence upon her family, Cynthia next 
projected the borrowing of a few 
aeroplanes to cruise the airs of the 
New England states. "They are 
dawdling about up there, anyway," 
she wisely observed, "and might as 
well be doing something useful while 
they are at it. I will prepare 'Leaflets 
for Farmers,' and the aviators shall 
drop them down in suitable places. 
One shall be headed: 

" 'Cuckoos or Caterpillars: Which 
Shall it Be?' 

"And another: 

" 'Shall the Robin Go and the Cut- 
worm Come?' 

"Under these headings I will dis- 
seminate a little information as to the 
relation between the flyers and the 
crawlers, and support my remarks by 
the dictum of the National Audubon 
Society on the subject." 

But Cynthia knew, none better 
than she, that the gradual extermina- 
tion of the birds could not be laid 
wholly to the vanity of women, the 
greed of traders, the lack of winter 
protection, the mania for collecting 
eggs and killing feathered creatures 
inherent in small boys, nor even to the 
gradual and necessary increase in the 
use of insecticides. She knew that 
at the root of the whole matter lay 
absolute ignorance of the value of the 
feathered folk as "flying squadrons," 
able, as Professor Hodge says, to 
move in any direction and carry help 
where needed. "It is clear," said 
Cynthia, "that a campaign of educa- 
tion is needed not alone for grown 
people in the ways I have outlined, 
but for the children. 

"We need a course of bird-study in 
our schools," said the enthusiastic 
bird-defender. "We need informal 
talks on the subject, illustrated by 
colored pictures of our native birds, 
and diversified by stories and inci- 
dents concerning them. Then we 
need to go afield and find our singing 
friends, identify their characteristics 
and discover their group-relations. 
So we shall learn their haunts, their 
songs and calls, their favorite food 
and where it is obtained, their resting- 



places, the care of their young, their 
special work by day and by night, 
their efforts at self-protection, and, 
perhaps, something of the mystery 
of their migration. So by watching 
them and studying their ways we shall 
learn to love them, and the next step, 
unconsciously taken, will necessarily be 
to protect them." Cynthia privately 
thinks that some form of euthanasia 
applied to the household cat may be 
necessary to her scheme, but she can 
hardly suggest it to children. Some 
of our schools have already organized 
Ten-to-One Clubs, which are devoted 
to the protection of birds, and the 
adoption of Bird Day, by educational 
workers all over the country, would be 
a tremendous stride in the right di- 

The idea of a national Bird Day- 
seems to have originated with Pro- 
fessor C. A. Babcock, superintendent 
of schools, in Oil City, Pennsylvania, 
who wrote to the Department of Agri- 
culture, in 1894, urging its establish- 
ment and suggesting May fourth as a 
suitable date for its observance. 

The Secretary of Agriculture re- 
ceived the idea with enthusiasm, and 
sent out an admirable circular on the 
subject (U. S. Department of Agri- 
culture, Division of Biological Survey, 

Circular No. 17), which in its clear 
setting forth of the arguments for 
bird protection, and its urgent appeal 
for help from the country at lar;-- 
worthy of attention from every Ameri- 
can citizen. 

The study of ornithology as a 
recognized branch of instruction 
throughout the year, with the m 
sary field excursions, would give all 
the material required for a Bird Day 
in any school, for all libraries are well 
supplied with books on the subject, 
and with readings from these, ac- 
counts, verbal and written, from the 
pupils of their seekings and findings, 
their own paintings and dra 
birds, bird-songs and games, and 
selections from the poetry of bird- 
land, an afternoon would be happily 
spent. Wherever the idea has been 
tried the pupils have taken it up with 
enthusiasm, have been marvelously 
happy in carrying out all its details, 
and have promptly assumed a new 
attitude toward the "little children 
of the air." It is this new attitude of 
thought and deed and word which it 
is so needful that we encourage, an 
attitude based not merely upon a senti- 
ment of protection for that which is 
tender, beautiful, and fragile, but 
upon a solid basis of economic fact. 


The Guardian 


{Continued from page 193) 

He took his time, but Nat showed no 
impatience. In fifteen minutes they 
were out in the storm again. 

The air seemed colder than ever 
after the warm shelter of that kitchen. 
The snow stung their faces and clogged 
their steps. They had no sooner 
reached the road than, in desperate 
fury, 'Gene turned on his brother. 

"Damn ye!" he choked. 

"Save your breath," advised Nat. 
"Ye'll need it." 

Inch for inch, the two men measured 
the same; pound for pound, they 
weighed the same. The same blood 
flowed in their veins, and as far as 
muscle went they could lift the same 
weight. For the matter of ten seconds 
they faced each other out here in the 
swirling snow with no one to interfere. 
Yet once again, at the end of this space, 
'Gene's head dropped, and he stumbled 
ahead without striking a blow. Nat 
led and made the trail, neither speak- 
ing nor looking at his brother. 

This was one of the nights when Nat 
felt the need of being near to Julie, the 
wife of 'Gene. This was one of the 
nights when he couldn't resist the call 
of his heart. Even without 'Gene he 
would have come just the same. The 
sting of the elements took him back 
again to the night on the mountain 
top when he had watched by her side. 
He footed the road joyfully with that 
memory to cheer him. Each whip- 
ping cut of iced wind, each driftingy 
mound of snow that he tramped down, 
each heavy mile made him gladder as 
it brought him nearer to her. Back of 
his own personal joy, back of the hun- 
ger of his own heart, lay the conviction 
that even in this humble way he was 
bringing her joy in bringing back her 
man to her. 

Behind him, that man stumbled, 
cursing the night, cursing the storm, 

cursing him who had forced him into 

When an hour after dusk they 
reached the storm-bound house at St. 
Croix, Nat stood one side to allow 
'Gene to pass. The latter went on 
with a muttered threat. 

He tried the front door and found it 
locked. He pounded with his numbed 

From the roadway Nat saw a light 
move rapidly from the sitting-room to 
the hall. He saw the door swing open 
and caught a glimpse of Julie's dark 
hair, of her red cheeks, as with a startle 
cry she drew back at sight of 'Gene. 
He saw his brother push in, and then 
heard the door close with a vicious 
bang as 'Gene slammed it to. 

That was all, after his long walk; 
that was all the man had to buoy up 
his spirits with over the long walk back 
to Hio, which still lay ahead of him. 
That was all, but enough. The heavi- 
ness left his legs and the rancor left his 
heart. He kept that face before him 
until two hours later he placed the key 
in the lock of the door of the house on 
the hill and went in. It was dark and 
bitter cold within, but he stumbled 
into a chair. Then, with his head 
bowed between his hands, he fought 
back the hot thoughts which the place 
conjured up. 

The Outcasts 

THE following month was a busy 
time for Nat Page. He found 
more trouble than he had an- 
ticipated in getting his lumber 
to the river-bank. The roads were 
steep and rough, and the deepening 
snow further clogged his progress. In 




order to keep to his schedule he was 
forced to hire more men and horses 
and look more sharply than ever after 
details. This was good for him, even 
though it added a still heavier weight 
of responsibility than he was now 
carrying. It gave him little time for 

As for 'Gene, his reputation as a 
brave and good man continued to grow. 
The mountain air and the hard ex- 
ercise sweetened and hardened him 
clear to the marrow. Men, instead of 
jesting loosely with him, spoke him 
fairly, and women who had once ig- 
nored him nodded pleasantly as they 
met him in the village during his weekly 
visits home. Because all this was new 
to him and because, say what you will, 
men like to be well thought of, he en- 
joyed himself much better than he had 
anticipated. He swaggered a bit, to 
be sure, still talked over-boastfully and 
was eager for a quarrel, but in most 
ways he conducted himself well. 

He even received some encourage- 
ment from Julie's attitude towards 
him. A woman could hardly be a 
woman and not appreciate the effort 
of that long walk nome every week 
through snow and wind. If at first 
she had been only startled and sus- 
picious, this wore away at the end of 
the month, for on these visits he con- 
ducted himself as well as she could ask. 
He was both mild-mannered and 
pleasant-spoken, and demanded of her 
nothing more than she could give. As 
a result, the color crept back to her 
cheeks and the tenseness left her lips. 
This weekly act of devotion seemed 
more like something Nat might do. It 
led her to hope that, after all, the blood 
relationship counted for something. 

In the meanwhile, though Nat Page 
had no direct communication with 
Silas, other men told him that Julie 
was growing even more beautiful and 
that she seemed very happy. 

"That is good," answered Nat. 
"That is as it should be." 

Good for all the world save for him 
alone. To picture her as more beauti- 
ful made it no easier for him. He was 
glad she was happier, but even this 

made it no easier for him. In fact, he 
didn't see where all thil 
end, and in that not even Father Lara- 
mie, the good priest from St. Croix. 
sometimes came to camp to look after 
the souls of his half-dozen parishioners, 
could help him. In a talk one n 
with this gentleman Nat had been led 
to confess. He was not of the faith and 
he had DO religious motive in so d 
but his heart was paining him sore, and 
the priest of the tender eyes had led 
him on. As the latter had listened his 
eyes had grown still more tender. 

"My son,'' said the priest when Nat 
was done, "you are acting worthily of 
that lov 

"But how long will it last:" Nat 
had cried. "Where will it end, for 
love for the one docs not die, and hate 
for the other still 1: 

"In time," answered the priest 
thoughtfully, "the love must kill the 

Then the priest, in an attempt to 
divert his mind from the present, had 
talked of all the good things which lie 
in eternity — of the peace and the love 
and the joy which would be his event- 
ual reward. But when he had done, 
he turned away his head and to him- 
self confessed: 

"Mais e'est grand dommage." 

Though pressed for time, Nat Page 
still accompanied his brother on his 
weekly pilgrimage for the sake of that 
brief glimpse of Julie at the door. From 
there he always returned to the house 
on the crest of the hill. 

At the Lovell auction he had bought 
enough to completely furnish his house, 
including even kitchen utensils. The 
fact that the furniture was not new 
gave the rooms a settled appearance. 
The hand-made wooden chairs, the ma- 
hogany high-boy, the old clock and 
mirrors had been in use a hundred 
years before he bought them. They 
brought with them the comfortable 
hospitality of age. 

It was on one Saturday night when 
it was bitter cold without that he was 
aroused from his brooding before the 
open fire by a weak knock upon the 
door. Hurrying to admit the late 



visitor, he found upon his doorstep 
Tommy Flint and his father. The 
two were half frozen and in a pitiable 
state of collapse. 

"Lord, man," he exclaimed, as he 
dragged them in to a place before the 
fire, "what's the trouble?" 

The old man bowed his face in his 
hands and began to cry, while Tommy 
spoke for him. 

"Ma's dead," choked the latter. 
"An' the Deacon, he's turned us out." 
"Your mother's dead?" exclaimed 
Nat, who now heard little of the vil- 
lage news. 

"Dead and buried a week ago," 
sobbed Tommy. 

"I hadn't heard," answered Nat. 
"And ye say the Deacon turned ye 
out — a night like this ? " 

"He turned us out yesterday, but 
we crawled back and slept in the house. 
Then he found us again, and nailed up 
all the winders." 

"Doesn't seem's though a man 
would turn a dog out this weather," 
exclaimed Nat. "Look here, crowd 
up to the fire! Are ye hungry?" 

With his teeth chattering, Tommy 
spread his purple hands over the 
flames and nodded. 

"Sit where ye are, then, an' I'll see 
what I can get." 

He kept a small supply of provisions 
in the house and cooked his own meals 
here every Sunday rather than go 
home. His mother had pleaded with 
him to come back, but there was too 
much of 'Gene in the old place. He 
couldn't stand it. 

He kindled the kitchen fire in a 
jiffy, and soon had a pan of ham and 
eggs on the stove. He set a table 
before the open fire in the sitting-room, 
and bringing in the food watched the 
man and boy devour it like starved 
wild creatures. He saw the hunger 
leave their eyes and the color return 
to their skin. The sight turned his 
thoughts away from himself and did 
him good. Furthermore, with the 
presence of these outcasts, the whole 
house came to life. It was the first 
time that any one except himself had 
been under this roof. 

"What ye planning to do?" he 
aksed Flint, as under the influence of 
food and warmth the old man partly 
recovered himself. 

"I reckon Tommy an' I'll pull out," 
he answered thoughtfully. 
Flint shook his head. 
"I dunno, but somewhere. If I was 
ten years younger, I'd go back to 

"I guess ye're both better off where 
ye be," answered Nat. 

"The p'int is, where be I?" answered 

"You're here now, and ye'd better 
stay till ye get a chance to look 
around. Then Tommy can go to 

"Ye mean we can stay right here in 
this house?" questioned Tommy, big- 

Nat nodded. 

"I kinder want to keep the house 
warmed up, and you and your father 
can help the old folks some around the 
farm. Are ye willin'?" 

"Be I?" answered Tommy enthusi- 
astically. "I'll tote all the water an' 
feed the cows, an' Dad — ■" 

He puased, as though uncertain just 
what his father would do, but the 
latter supplied the information: 
"I'll help ye, Tommy." 
"Thar ye be," exclaimed Tommy, as 
though this concluded the matter. 

"It's a bargain," answered Nat 
readily. "An' there's just one condi- 
tion — • that ye cut out the booze, 

Flint nodded. 

"I was tellin' Tommy this very 
night thet I wasn't goin' to tech another 
drop ■ — ■ not if it was to save my soul 
from Hell." 

"Good," drawled Nat. "And when 
your soul reaches thet point of danger, 
jus' let me know." 

Tommy jumped up and insisted 
upon washing the dishes and putting 
away the supper things, while his 
father drew out his pipe and settled 
back in his chair before the fire as 
comfortably as though he had always 
been there. 

(To be continued) 

The East in the West 


for a number of years has 
been the New York repre- 
sentative of the New Eng- 
land Magazine, has accepted a posi- 
tion with "Motor'' as Advertising 
Manager for the state of Michigan. 
The publishers of the New England 
regret his departure and at the same 
time wish him every success in his 
new undertaking. 

Mr. Standish was a lineal descendant 
of the famous captain of the Pilgrims. 
His father was born in Boston but 
moved to Minnesota from where he 

enlisted in the I fnion Ann;. . 
as an aide on the staff o( ' 
B( njamin Andrew . in M 
Tennessee, he met the daughtei 
Judg oftheT* 

Court and after the war he 

her, making his • e in Men 

where he conducted \ 

. but died at forty-one l< 
young family. 

M) le Si an Li h I egan in the ad 
tising business when he 
years old with I 
bu1 eighte< n. T< igether the] 
-i reet car a :•. en ' ing : :. 
Man--. In l^v ; lie journeyed a third 
of the v. a 

bicycle, earning hi- expen 
ing in nc any cap;. 

where there was an i ; and 

gaining an invaluable ace. Hit 

first work in New Y rk was with the 
Sperry .x. Hutchii ( mpany, 

were introducing the famous (ireen 
Trading Stamp. In 1890 he ma- 
Eunice Swift, the youngest daughter 
of the Mayor of Yankton, S , Dak 
They ha\ e one child, Rose, nai 
from the wife of the Pilgrim captain. 
Mr. Standish ha- served with the 
general advertising staff of the Hearst 
newspapers and as a book reviewer 
for the same publications. He filled 
the important position of New England 
manager for the Harper publications, 
until he was induced to aid in building 
up the New England Magazine. 
With splendid health, a pleasing 
personality and ripe experience. Mr. 
Standish is certain to make himself 
felt in the Western held to which he 
has eone. 


New England Magazine 

JULY 1913 







THE LITTLE LADY — A Story. By Caroline Stetson Allen 219 



THE GUARDIAN — A Serial. Chapter XVI. By Frederick Orin Bartlett . . 235 








Stockholders: Samuel M. Conant, Pawtucket, R. L; Bertrand L. Chapman, New York City; James 

F. Bacon, Boston. 
Mortgagees, John F. Tracy, Belmont 

{Published in accordance with postal regulations) 

Published monthly at $1.75 a year. Entered as Second Class Mail Matter at the Boston, Massachu- 
setts, Post Office. 



^Beautiful ^Cew England 

TODAY a population that seeks 
the most secluded nooks of 
farm and shore, of hill and 
valley, and forest fastness, comes 
to New England for recreation and health. 
Our beauty of landscape is wealth and 
danger. Pleasure-loving travelers are 
too apt to be heedless of the more serious 
sanctions of life. But New England 
has, in the past, gloried in another 
beauty — that of the mind and conscience. 
Will our visitors carry away with them 
something -of that remembrance from 
the shrines that they visit and the homes 
that they enter? We cannot illustrate 
it in pictorial pages. We cannot show 
in half-tones and drawings the patience 
and hope of our race. But we can appeal 
for consideration as something more than 
a national playground. He is not worthy 
of us who does not grasp something ot 
New England's moral sanity and sweet- 


aL^.. ' Bilr*- 

IP1|P^ s 

■ '. 


«..*/**■:. i* : ;ft' . 

" ' 

• . r 


: :', ' 







A III \DLAND \ : B \R II W I" »P 



The Month 

IT has been a strangely fatuous 
month: Congress drones on toward 
the inevitable, and tries to look 
important; Mexico, with Latin 
unmindfulness of essentials and the 
usual Latin moue at "American 
Crudity," complains of a lack of 
friendly recognition from her "sister 
republic," which she continues to 
insult and injure; the blatant popular 
press in New England continues to 
excoriate the New Haven railroad and 
to rejoice in the bending to demagog- 
uery of the Mellen administration 
and the defeat for at least a dozen 
years and perhaps for a generation 
of a masterly plan for the develop- 
ment of this section; the country, 
not yet having felt its effects, con- 
tinues to rejoice in the prospect of a 
new national tax system, whereby 
the foreigner who enriches himself 
at our expense is exempted from all 
share in the cost of government, 
which is to be borne by those who 
have won a competence among our 
own people — a tax on success and 
achievement, which reflects the level- 
ing democracy of the narrow and 
provincial thought of the over-esti- 
mated "Middle- West"; the militant 
suffragettes continue to amuse the 
world with their important pettiness — 
Mrs. Pankhurst now "goes limp," 
like Lovey Mary's baby, when the 
police arrive — ; the feministic wave 
that has destroyed art and literature, 
and dissipated social economics with 
countless frivolities continues to rise 
toward its fatal crest, as it has been 
rising ever since the nauseous senti- 
mentalism of Jean Jacques Rousseau 
flooded the earth; private schools and 
colleges continue to clamor for increased 
endowment to the growing confusion 
of our educational system; most Ameri- 
can men continue to work too hard 
at nothing and to live beyond their 
means ; most American women continue 
to follow the fashions set by tasteless 
and conscienceless Hebrew manufac- 

turers, and to spend too much time 
and thought on amusements, luxury 
and dress. How long, oh Lord! How 

It has been a singularly beautiful 
month: here in New England, at 
least, the skies have been wonder- 
fully clear, with magnificent cloud- 
masses floating slowly across from 
horizon to horizon; roses have enjoyed 
a second blooming season; the country 
is green, light showers having saved 
the grass and more tender herbage; 
it has been just warm enough to give 
to the water that refreshing aspect 
which is its ultimate, charm, just cool 
enough to give zest to the floral glory 
of our gardens. 

It has been a month of growing 
faith: the nation, staggered by the stu- 
pidities of governmental interference, 
has turned to face the future with a 
growing consciousness that in individ- 
ual effort, and not in governmental 
action, has achievement and progress 
always resided; as a nation who takes 
our politics altogether too seriously 
and too absorbingly, we have stopped 
reading the political news and begun 
to face the future; business is finding 
its feet; we seem to have been vouch- 
safed a glimpse of a way out, in spite 
of the "problems" and "issues" and 
"revolutions" with which we are said 
to be overwhelmed by those who wish 
to exploit the community for their 
own gain; we even seem to see that 
there is public conscience and public 
sense sufficient to overcome the vapor- 
ings of the yellow press and the flam- 
boyant superficiality of the innumer- 
able host of reformers. In short, it 
has been a month in which we have 
made no special progress in getting 
on the right track, or even in a general 
realization of how far we are from the 
right track; but it has been a month 
in which we have come to see that 
the country will surely survive the 
tariff changes, Japan, Mexico, Congress 
and even William Randolph Hearst! 




It has been a month, withal, in 
which it is good to be alive, for the 
beauty of the world and the glory of 
ever wider and more open oppor- 
tunity to activities that bless and do 
not harm. 

An extraordinary feature of the 
general state of mind in America is 
the almost universal report of book 
publishers that never in their experi- 
ence have serious books been so 
neglected by buyers. The condition 
is not sectional, but wide-spread. 
The people, apparently, do not want 
to think seriously or to inform them- 
selves. Even the Wilson books have 
failed to meet with any popular 
demand. Some books of world-wide 
reputation have not sold over a thou- 
sand copies. On the other hand, the 
French naturalist, Fabre, with his 
books on insect life, has occupied the 
center of the stage. In other words, 
our zealous sociologists and world- 
builders have exhausted the patience 
of the reading public. There can be 
no question but that this is true. At 
the same time book publishers have 

themselves to blame for what has been 
a growing condition for a number 
of years. They do practically nothing 
to encourage serious book rewv 
The worthless, commercial book re- 
view is fostered. Every attention is 
paid to meretricious notices in medi- 
ums of large circulation. Mediums 
of large circulation do not sell serious 
books. The prevailing type of book 
review interests nobody. In other 
words, it is another case of cupidity 
over-reaching itself. A good book 
review, sincere, scholarly, su festive, 
appearing in a journal of ten thousand 
circulation will sell more books than 
an adulatory notice in a "medium" 
of a million circulation. 

We are placing in your hands to-day 
a "Souvenir Number" of the 
England Magazine. It i^ devoted 
almost exclusively to illustrations. 
This we are doing in consideration 
of the thousands of travelers who 
visit New England in the summer 
months and who may appreciate an 
opportunity to carry away with them 
such a pictorial epitome of Beautiful 
New England. 



Drawings By William Everett Cram 










SUR1 \ l 5CARB01 








The Little Lady 



I. In the Matron's Room 

WONDER if we can suit her," 
said Miss Mills. She slowly 
folded the letter she had been 
reading, as slowly removed her 
spectacles, and laid letter and glasses 
on the stand at her side. 

Miss Mills — lank, thin-visaged, 
narrow-lipped — was in charge of the 
Farnsborough Orphanage, and the 
plump, compact, good-natured looking 
little woman who sat rocking by the 
further window was Miss Dillsbury, 
her chief assistant. 

"Oh, yes!" now said Miss Dillsbury 

"Gracious, Louisa! You've not 
even seen the letter. You don't know 
what I'm talking about." 

"Someone after a child?" placidly 
inquired Miss Dillsbury. She was 
darning a small, brown woolen stocking, 
and if the stocking had waited much 
longer to be mended, there wouldn't 
have been any stocking to speak of. 

"Yes; but it's that Miss Loring." 
Then, indeed, Miss Dillsbury did 
stop rocking, and a look of some con- 
cern appeared on her plump counte- 
nance. For Miss Loring was well- 
known to be a Most Particular Lady, 
and if she came in quest of a child, one 
must be forehanded and have the 
right child in evidence. 

"It's not that she's rich" said Miss 
Mills, — "It's not that, for she isn't." 

"No," assented Miss Dillsbury. 
"Boy, or girl?" 

"Girl. Let me see ," taking 

up the letter again, "A little girl of 
about eight or nine." Miss Loring 
and her brother are coming at four 
this afternoon to choose the child. 
Seem to be in a hurry. Miss Loring 
is going to make her home with her 
brother in England, and wants to 
take along a little girl to bring up and 

have for company. Now, Louisa, we 
must set our wits to work!" 

Miss Mills herself looked as if she 
liked nothing better than setting her 
wits to work. Her stiff muslin cap 
with its starched bows fairly bristled, 
and she sat, if possible, more erectly 
in the old rocker. But Louisa resumed 
contentedly, "Oh well, Eliza, I guess 
they'll see one they like. I'm sure 
they're a nice set this year. Of course 
Katie'd have no chance." 

"Katie's here to stay, unless she 
changes a good bit. But there's 
Nellie Burns; I'm free to say I'm 
proud of that child." 

"And yet Katie — " began Miss 

"Nellie's not afraid to speak up 
when she's spoken to," went on Miss 
Mills rapidly, "A smart, capable child. 
She'll be worth something to the home 
she goes into. And then there's 
Rhoda, — if Miss Loring could see 
her hemming — " 

"And yet Katie—" 

"Yes, hem she can as well as a girl 
twice her age. Pretty, too. Some call 
her hair red, but / say it's auburn. 
I do take solid satisfaction in looking 
at that child!" 

"And yet Katie — " began Miss 
Dillsbury a third time. But just 
then a bell rang in some lower region, 
and Miss Mills had risen and was out 
of the door before more could be said. 

II. In the Play-Room 

The play-room at the Orphanage 
looked like anything but a place for 
play. The walls were bare of ornament 
except for a framed sampler at one 
end of the room. This sampler showed, 
in vivid colors, Jonah in the act of 
being swallowed by the whale, and 
was responsible for not a few night- 
mares among the children. Miss 
Mills had worked the sampler at the 




age of seven. There were two plain 
wooden tables, but no chairs, except- 
ing those for the somewhat infrequent 
use of visitors. It was Miss Mills' 
theory that chairs encouraged laziness, 
and that until children's habits were 
formed it was as well to keep them 
actively on their feet. As to games — 
"They only clutter up the room." 

Yet a child will have it's own. In 
the bare play-room games were played, 
and laughter sounded. Smuggled 
newspapers were converted by small 
girls into paper-dolls, and the little 
boys were blue-coated soldiers who 
camped under the table-tents. 

To-day the little girls were quieter 
than usual. Whether someone had 
overheard stray sentences from the 
morning's conversation between Miss 
Mills and Miss Dillsbury, or whether 
Miss Dillsbury herself had told one of 
the older girls, — however it came 
about, a rumor had spread among the 
children that a lady was that day 
coming, and coming to choose and 
possibly take away one of their own 
number. And, though not really 
ill-natured, they all shouted with 
laughter when Katie cried, "Oh, if it 
could be me!" 

Katie's eyes looked too big in her 
thin face. Her hair refused point- 
blank to curl, even when Angie McMan- 
nus twisted the black locks up in 
innumerable papers. "Your clothes 
slip and twist so, Katie!" said Miss 
Mills, "How is it?" Jennie's don't." 

Katie made no answer (it was a 
provoking way she had) but looked 
rather stupidly at Jennie. Jennie was 
as trim as the freshly-clipped yew in 
the front yard, while Katie resembled 
more the stunted straggling silver 
birch with its few leaves across the 

Miss Mills had singled out Jennie 
as the little girl Miss Loring would 
probably choose to adopt. But then 
she wondered whether Rhoda of the 
auburn hair might not stand an 
equally good chance. Looks go a 
long way. 

In Rhoda's own mind was no doubt 
whatever. She felt sure of not being 

passed by, and the conviction led her 
to assume a new step and mien, and 
to look upon the bare walls as if 
already saying good-bye to them. 

Katie had invented the game, called 
"Gather them golden," at which the 
children were playing. It was a 
pretty and ingenious game, but Katie 
herself could not be persuaded to take 
part in it. She blushed hotly and drew 
back when the children tried to pull 
her into their circle. She took the 
youngest baby up in her arms and, 
holding him cuddled close, looked on 
from a far corner. The baby patted 
Katie's cheek. Ii<- nrai alii wtd to 
pull the green ribbon from her hair, 
and she said never a word. But she 
laughed with Jimmie when the "golden 
apples" being at last gathered into a 
"basket" the t>- '.-ded to pick 

them out and t< ich as c 

not escape. Perhaps if Jimmie had 
been a few months older and able to 
speak clearly he could have told why 
Katie's frocks so often slipped and 

III. On the Way to the Orphanage 

"Edward, what in the world am I 
doing it for?" 

"Heaven kn 

"Shall we turn back: But no! I 
do want a little girl exactly as I wanted 
my first long gown, and before that 
a doll with real hair. 

"Dolls are expensive." 

"I think her hair will be fair, Ed- 
ward. I've never thought of any but 
a light-haired, blue-eved child, perhaps, 
like little Alice." 

Mr. Loring looked away, and for a 
few moments neither spoke. 

When he did speak it was with a 
faltering voice. 

" After having her if you choose 

someone — as you well may; it's all 
a lotterv — who turns out not a 
lady — " 

"I know, I dare say I shouldn't 
have said we'd decide so immediately. 
But we must sail Saturday. And there 
are all her clothes and other things 
to be seen to." 

"Get 'em in London." 



"The poor little forlornity must 
have something to travel in." 

Of the tall, singularly fair, slender 
couple walking at a brisk pace toward 
the Orphanage, Miss Loring was the 
elder by several years. Her brother 
had just reached his fortieth year. 
The loss of their little sister some twelve 
years ago was one they seldom could 
speak of, even to one another. 

As they drew nearer to the Orphan- 
age Miss Loring's color came and 
went, and her heart beat quickly. 
As Edward said, it was all a lottery. 
He and she were the only ones left 
of the old name, excepting some 
distant cousins in Canada. If this 
child could fit into their quiet lives, 
be a bit of color and fragrance where 
they had almost forgotten how to look 
for any blossoming, could lure Edward 
from his sadness, make her own active 
hands more gladly busy, — on the 
other hand (for the brother and sister 
were fastidious to a fault), if the little 
girl should prove, in the end, after 
care and cherishing, but an artificial 
flower, unable to bloom — 

And now they were at the gate, 
and in a moment had been admitted 
and shown into the chilly little recep- 
tion room. 

IV. In the Play-Room 

Miss Mills led her visitors up two 
flights of stairs and along the narrow 
hall which led to the play-room. 
"For here," she explained, "you can 
see the children all together. If I 
called them down-stairs, one at a time, 
I'm afraid it would wear out your 

"That will be much the best way," 
said Miss Loring, "we have a two- 
mile walk home, and the days are 

The hall proved dark, and in open- 
ing the play-room door the light, 
coming suddenly, was rather blinding. 
Moreover, Mr. Loring's eyesight was 
very poor. He followed Miss Mills 
and his sister into the room, but just 
over the threshold stumbled over a 
toy cart (or more properly a wooden 
box with string attached) and fell 

headlong. He was on his feet at once, 
brushing off the dust with his hand- 
kerchief, and smiling away the lamen- 
tations of the matron. The incident 
is mentioned only for what came in 
its wake. The children were enter- 
tained by the mishap, Jennie and 
Rhoda loudly sounding their amuse- 
ment after the rest were again quiet. 

Miss Loring's attention was drawn 
to the little girl whose black hair was 
held in bounds by the narrow green 
ribbon. This little girl was quite near 
the door, but to all appearances one 
would suppose had seen nothing of the 
fall. When it happened she instantly 
turned her head away, and seemed to 
be watching something intently from 
the window. 

The matron allowed Katie to stay 
at the window, while she brought 
forward in turn capable Nellie, pretty 
Rhoda, and trim Jennie, — the bright 
particular stars — , and a few other 
little girls not so noticeable, "but 
likely children," Miss Mills assured 
her visitors. 

"Nellie, run now to Miss Dillsbury 
and fetch a plate of cake for the lady 
and gentleman. Do you go with her, 
Katie," — turning to the child at the 
window — "You'll see, now, how spry 
Nellie is," said Miss Mills when the 
two little girls had gone down-stairs, 
"Up-and-doing. Not a lazy bone in 

"And the other little girl?" asked 
Miss Loring. 

"Oh, Katie! — -Katie's well enough, 
to mind a baby and that, — but she's 
ordinary. That's what Katie is, — • 

Here was Nellie, to be sure, back 
again, plate in hand; and on the plate 
a thin slice of fruit cake and a thick 
slice of plain cake. This plate she 
briskly presented to Miss Loring, while 
ordinary Katie two minutes later 
entered with a twin plate which she 
very shyly gave into Mr. Loring's 
hands. Or was it a twin plate, after 
all? The brother and sister exchanged 
a swift smile. The fresh snowy napkin 
underlying Mr. Loring's cake was 
absent from the plate of his sister. 



His cake lay in even slices while'hers — 
the under slice looked as if small fingers 
had been busy forming a curious 
ornamental design along the edge. 

"You're slow, Katie," said Miss 
Mills coldly; at which the color in 
Katie's cheeks deepened. 

Nellie drew herself up with a comi- 
cal little air of self-satisfaction, and 
Jennie and Rhoda looked anxious. 
Each was fairly sure of her own 
superior attractions, yet with grand 
ladies and gentlemen, creatures well- 
known to be subject to whims, one 
never could tell. 

The matron found her two visitors 
strangely silent folk, but she was used 
to all kinds, and now, to fill the time, 
she asked the little girls in turn to 
come and speak to the lady, and tell 
her what they could do. Angie 
McMannus professed an aptitude for 
ironing. Mary Haines, it seemed, 
found her joy in darning fine laces. 

"I can trim my own hats, and the 
other children's hats," said Nellie, 
"and I can set tables, and wash dishes. 
and dust, and clean up, and make — ' 

"That will do," said Miss Mills, for 
she had caught a look of impatience 
on Mr. Loring's face. She summoned 
Jennie next, Annie, Rhoda, and last 
of all, Katie. 

"Speak up now, Katie!" said the 
matron, as the little girl slowly adva need 
and stood with drooping head before 
the three. Instead of speaking up, 
Katie's head bent a little lower, so that 
one now saw not only the band of 
green ribbon encircling her hair, but 
the ribbons' two floating ends. 

"You've a tongue I suppose, as well 
as Angie or Jennie!" went on Miss 

"/ know what she can do!" said 
Mr. Loring, taking Katie very gently 
by the hand, and drawing her to his 
side. "She can look the other way 
when big men who ought to know 
better fall all over themselves." 

Mr. Loring's eyes looked into the 
little girls' with an expression she 
had never met before from any grown- 
up. It was a look that called to her, 
and she knew that her own eves were 

answering, even though her tongue 
was tied. It was a look all fun and 
bright understanding. And suddenly 
a look upon her own face, a look 
delicious in its hint of laughter, as 
some rare curving shell seen thr 
the covering brought 

Loring's gaze as well to the child's 

"Tell me, please, what you like 
to do," said she in her low, pleasant 

" 1 can't do things. I'm not sma i 
came almost in a whisper. 

"True enough!" cried I i 1 Is, 

while the children tittered. 

Now the next to youngest child 
in the Orphanage wa .' O'Brien. 

Patsy was five; and he adored Katie 
from the crown <<f her dusky hea 
the toes of her worn 
Pi ■ y. watching from afar the fa^ 
Miss Mills dm sworn enemy), and 
the row of elder girls, decided at 
this point that the\- were all in - 
despicable conspiracy against his Katie, 
and fast getting the better of her. 
Before anybody quite knew what was 
happening, a small fury was in their 
midst, whirling arms and legs like 
some strange sort of pin-wheel. 
Mills felt one cheek tingle, and then 
the other. Leaving her as if turned to 
stone with amazement, he fairly and 
squarely slapped or kicked Nellie, 
Jennie, Rhoda. Mary. Annie and 
Angie. This mission accomplished. 
Patsy flew to Katie for shelter, for 
well he knew he had evoked a storm. 
Katie's short arms were powerless to 
avert that storm, but she did her 
valiant best. . . . 

Surely this was a day of surprises 
at the Orphanage. When the children 
were, one and all. banished from the 
room, Miss Mills somewhat breath- 
lessly asked Miss Loring if any dec: 
had been reached. 

"Yes," said Miss Loring. "there 
seems to be really no question. I 
think my brother is agreed with me." — 
turning to him. 

"Certainly." said Mr. Loring, 
"there is but one to choose — that 
most charmine child, the Little Ladv." 








fc *■;,■*» 


"HE Wlllll MOl'NTAIN RANG! KiokiVi, VCROSS ICH'i 1 \ K I 







g€|§fe B 1 



There was a small book published at Greenfield, Massachusetts, 1798, by Arthur Benjamin. To this 
very practical treatise, as well as to the work, of its author as a practical builder, is due by fa- 
greater part of the good Colonial architecture in western New England. 






a i THE f 

Bits from quaint old Damariscove oil the Maine shore. The KnjHibh hshcrmen us>cd to resort to thi* 
barren island to cure their fish, in lo22 as many as thin .ere reported there. 






GOING INTO 1111 M MM v. 


: ; : 







The Guardian 




Nat was well pleased with the 
arrangement. Not only would this 
keep the house alive during the week, 
but it gave him a chance to do some- 
thing for Tommy. He had.always liked 
the lad. When on the following Sat- 
urday he came home after his long 
walk from St. Croix, it was not to a 
cold and dark house but to lighted 
windows, a fire on the hearth, and a 
steaming hot supper prepared by 
Flint. The latter was a good cook 
and had spent the entire day in getting 
things ready. 

So a month passed, and life went 
better with Nat Page than it had the 
preceding month — better in every 
respect save one. Though the work 
in camp ran smoothly though 'Gene 
continued to live up to his good name, 
though Julie so far as he could learn 
was happy, the ache would not out 
of his own heart. Night and day, 
day and night, he suffered like one 
tormented with a grievous illness. In 
spite of all he could do, the girl re- 
mained as the supreme necessity of 
his life. Work as hard as he might, 
he was left wakeful by thoughts of her. 
Whenever he did sleep, he dreamed of 
her and awoke with her name on his 
lips. He couldn't make his life count 
for anything without her; he couldn't 
disassociate her from either the past 
or the future. The past dated from 
the first time he saw her, and the 
future was a chaos of hopeless dreams. 

His sole outlet was through 'Gene, 
and he paid heavily whenever he used 
this, for the latter now realized fully 
that the one vulnerable spot in his 
brother was his regard for Julie. Nat 
liked to send back to her every Satur- 
day some little present. Once it was 
a few choice bits of spruce gum, another 
time a pretty strip of bark, and then 

Begun in the February, 191 2, number. 

again a brace of partridges which he 
spent a half-day in getting. The first 
time he handed over these gifts to 
'Gene the lattersmiled contemptuously. 

"What are these for?" he inquired. 

"They are a present from you to 
your wife," answered Nat. 

"What do you think she wants of 
those fool things?" demanded 'Gene. 

"She will like them because you 
bring them," answered Nat. 

"Huh," grunted 'Gene, "I reckon 
she gets enough to eat at home." 

"Maybe," answered Nat. "But 
you will carry something to her every 

Though at first 'Gene thought this 
merely a bit of foolishness, he found 
that the little presents really did make 
a difference. Julie seemed actually 
pleased with the attention. 

"It must have been a lot of trouble 
for you to get these," she said when he 
brought home the partridges. 

"No great trouble," he answered 

"Well, it's good of you, Gene. I'll 
cook them for your supper." 

She did, and though she ate but little 
of them 'Gene finished them off with 
a decided relish. 

In spite of this, 'Gene rebelled when 
Nat came back to camp one Saturday 
with a deer, and cutting off a haunch 
of venison weighing some twenty 
pounds handed it to him to carry. This 
happened too on one of the worst nights 
of the winter. A snow-laden gale had 
swept over the mountain for two days, 
and when that noon the weary crew 
dragged themselves back to the shacks 
a chorus of snow-wraiths skirled out of 
the pines at their heels. A man could 
not raise his face to them, and breath- 
ing came hard. The trees were whipped 
until they soughed like the after-moan 
of a tear-dry woman. There was no 
landscape, no horizon. The world was 
reduced again to chaos; to a swirling 

Copyright, 1912, Small, Maynard & Co. 




infinity of icy particles. Man did not 
belong in it, for it tested the strength of 
even the deep-rooted things. 

It had been a bad day for Nat too. 
The very fury of the storm seemed to 
drive Julie deeper into his heart. 
When he had gone hunting for her that 
morning, it was because the call for her 
was so great that he could not even 
work. The best he could do was to 
fight that storm to get some little thing 
for her. The fiercer blew the gale, the 
more real it made his effort seem. So 
that day it was necessary, more than 
any other day which had preceded, 
for him to go to the house at St. Croix. 
It was after lunch that he gathered in 
his belt and nodded to 'Gene. 

"Not to-day — not in this?" stam- 
mered 'Gene in amazement. 

"She'll worry if ye don't come," 
answered Nat. 

"Worry be hanged!" answered 
'Gene. "A wolf couldn't live in this 

"Maybe not," answered Nat, "but 
a man can." 

"I'll be damned if / can," replied 
'Gene sulkily. 

"Ye'll prove yourself a man by 
trying," concluded Nat. 

As they started, Nat tossed the 
haunch of venison to 'Gene. 

"For your wife," he said briefly. 

'Gene was speechless. When he 
recovered his breath, he stifled an oath. 
Then, with a wicked smile about his 
lips, he picked up the venison and 
followed at Nat's heels. That was one 
of the days when Nat paid big, for 
from the time they started 'Gene never 
ceased talking of Julie. He pictured 
the glory of returning to her and waxed 
shamelessly eloquent over the tingle of 
her warm arms about his neck. But 
at the end of the tenth mile he stumbled 
and fell under the weight of his gift. 
Nat shouldered it the remainder of the 
way, and for the last mile also bore the 
weight of his brother on his shoulder. 
He made no reply to anything 'Gene 
said, though most of the way his fingers 
itched to throttle off the speech. 

At the door of the little house Nat 
left his brother. After knocking for 

him and stepping back quickly into 
the darkness, he saw the d and 

caught a brief glimpse of the flushed 
face of Julie. She reached out her 
hands to help her husband over the 
threshold. A cry of wonder escaped 
her lips. 

"On a night like this, 'Gene?" she 

Speechless, numbed, 'Gene dropped 
the frozen haunch of venison at her 

Nat saw her stare in amazement at 
the gift. Then he heard her voice once 

"Oh, 'Gene, 'Gene, I know you 
mean to be so good!" 

Then she took his arm to steady him, 
and closed the door against the gale and 
against the man hidden in the icy 

'Gene Has a Drink 

IT was on the morning of March 
third that Al Foley slunk into 
camp for the ostensible purpose 
of selling tobacco, gloves, and 
woolen stockings. Because Foley 
moved like a gray wolf, Nat Page did 
not see him, but he learned that night 
at grub what the man was about, for 
at table the talk grew loud, and later 
that evening one-half the men were 
drunk, among them 'Gene. Nat was 
stretched out on his bunk, when he 
heard the rumpus, but when he ap- 
peared it was too late. The men were 
as wild as hawks. 'Gene, with flushed 
face and bleared eyes, sat in their 
midst, telling stories both vile and 
fantastic. Foley was in a corner half 
hidden from sight. After a look around 
Nat went outside and waited. There 
was nothing to be done at present. 
So long as the men had the liquor 
they had it and that was an end of it. 
He could not take it away from them 
as though they were small boys. He 
was not worrying so much about them 
as he was about 'Gene. As he thought 
of the wasted work of two months, 
his jaws became hard-set. But he 



waited — waited for 'Gene and waited 
for Foley. 

It was not until eleven that the 
trouble began which Nat knew in the 
end was sure to begin. It was then 
that there came a quick exchange of 
the lie, and 'Gene found himself facing 
Bartineau once again. Neither man 
was mad drunk. They were both able 
to stand on their feet and both able 
to fight. When Nat came in, they were 
already at it. But it didn't last long. 
Within five minutes 'Gene was shield- 
ing his face and backing away before 
the stiff blows from Bartineau's fists. 
The latter followed him up, and Nat 
heard 'Gene exclaim; 

"For Gawd's sake, quit!" 

Bartineau lowered his fists. He 
stood amazed a second and then de- 
liberately spat on 'Gene and turned 

Without resenting even this, 'Gene 
huddled back into the crowd, which 
shied away to let him through. 

This was the pity of the incident — 
two months of wasted work. In less 
than five minutes all Nat's efforts came 
to nothing; 'Gene had caved in before 
the whole camp. And yet it was not 
to him that Nat spoke when he entered 
but to Al Foley. He crossed the room 
and seized the latter by the shoulder. 
He dragged him out of the door, a 
cringing cur of humanity beseeching 
help of the camp. Two men started 
forward to protest, but changed their 
minds and stepped back into their 
places. Once outside, Nat spoke 

"It was you who sold the stuff?" 
he demanded. 

"You can't prove it," whined Foley. 

That was true enough, for it was a 
matter of honor among the men not to 
tell where they secured their liquor. 

"No," answered Nat slowly, "I 
don't suppose I can. But I reckon it 
ain't necessary." 

"Ye'd better keep yer hands off'n 
me," warned Foley. "I'll have the 
law on ye. Ye can't prove nothin'." 

"I'm not tryin' to prove any- 
thing," answered Nat. "Have ye any 

"Ye can't prove nothin'." repeated 

Nat reached down and tapped the 
man's pockets and found two pint 

"I want those," said Nat. 

He took them, and tossed the man 
a dollar. But the latter was too crafty 
to pick up the money, and it lay half 
buried in the snow where it fell. It 
was at this point that 'Gene staggered 
out, his head splitting, his tongue 

"You're just the man I want to see. 
Come on over to the barn." 

"What for?" demanded 'Gene. 

"I've got some more over there," 
answered Nat. 

"Ye've got a drink?" exclaimed 
'Gene in amazement. 

"Lots of it. Come on!" 

Dragging Foley along, Nat led the 
way to the barn and in. He handed 
one bottle to 'Gene. 

"Here," he said, "help yourself 
Keep your eye on Foley while I fasten 

There were two side doors leading 
out of the barn, and Nat fastened both 
of these from the outside. When he 
came back, 'Gene had drank half the 
bottle. It restored his confidence. 

"Say," he exclaimed to Nat, "I'm 
goin' back and knock the head off that 
Frenchman. I ware n't ready. I — " 

Nat placed his hand on his brother's 

"Later," he said quietly. "I want 
you to lick him when you're sober. 
To-night I want you to drink deep 
and hearty — drink all ye want. May- 
be ye won't get another chance." 

He turned to Foley. 

"Foley," he said, "ye stay here an* 
keep him company. Every door in 
the barn is locked. There's two win- 
dows back of the horses, but I'm 
goin' to stay out there and if ye open 
them I'll knock ye in again. This is 
your party, and now ye'll stick it 

"What ye mean?" demanded Foley. 

"Wait an' see," answered Nat. 

He handed the second bottle to 



"Here's some more. Drink it all if 
ye want — every last drop of it. J 
shouldn't wonder but what it's the 
the last ye get in this camp." 

"I dunno what ye're drivin' at," 
answered 'Gene good-naturedly, "but 
here's how." 

He raised the bottle to his lips. Nat 
went out and turned the key in the 
padlock on the outside of the big main 
door. Then he took his position 
beneath the two windows and waited. 

For the matter of five minutes he 
heard nothing from 'Gene except 
broken snatches of song and from Foley 
nothing at all. This was followed by 
a story, and then 'Gene's thoughts 
apparently reverted again to the fight. 

"I tell ye I ware n't ready," he 
explained to Foley. " I licked him once 
an' I can lick him again. Have a drink." 

Foley answered that he didn't want 
a drink. 

"Have a drink," insisted' Gene. 

It was evident that 'Gene had stag- 
gered to his feet and moved towards 

" Easy, Gene,'" Foley tried to placate 
him. "I'll have a drink, but keep yer 
shirt on." 

Apparently Foley took a drink, for 
after a moment's silence, 'Gene burst 

"That's a good feller. Ye're a good 
feller, Al. Where be ye: It's so 
darned dark here I can't see ye." 

"Thet's all right," answered Folev. 
"I'm here." 

"Then come over where I can see 
ye. I want to show ye what I'm 
goneter do to that Frenchman. I 
want to show ye." 

"I know ye can lick the tar outer 
him," Foley hastened to assure the man. 

"But I want to show ye." 

There was a sound of scuffling, and 
then Foley's voice came from a dis- 

"Why don't ye curl up in the hay 
an' have a sleep, 'Gene?" 

But 'Gene let out a wild whoop. 
The liquor was fast making him crazy 

"Look out," he yelled, "for I'm 

Nat heard him stumble acros-. the 
barn and heard Foley scrambling out 
of reach like a frightened rat. From 
this point on 'Gene grew wilder, both in 
talk and movement. He became surly 
at being balked, surly and vengeful. 

"Let me git my hands on ye," he 
yelled. "Gawd, I'll show ye. I'm 
goneter have another drink and then 
I'll show ye." 

Evidently be had another drink 
and then started once more after his 
man. With a grim smile Nat heard 
another wild scramble acrosi the barn 
floor. The chase further excited 'Gene, 
and with one devilish yell after another 
he hounded the frightened man thr 
the stalls and around to the floor again. 

"Quit," screamed Fol< 

" If I catch yer. I'll quit. I'm 
choke ye, Foley. I'm goneter kill ye 
dead, I .reamed 'Gene. 

Another wild scramble followed, 
and then the window back of the b 
was thrown open and Foley thi 
a foot. 

"Get back," warned Nat. 

" Let me out," pleaded Fole\-. "Ik- 
crazy mad." 

"Back!" answered Nat. "If he's 
mad, ye made him mad. Look out 
for him." 

Foley withdrew his foot just in time 
to escape 'Gene's clutch. The next 
time Foley's voice was heard it evi- 
dently came from the barn loft to 
which he had climbed. 

"If ve come up here," he screamed, 
"I'll kick ye back." 

"I'm a-comin'," answered 'Gene. 

In terror Foley crossed a beam to 
the other side and scrambled to the 
floor. Once again he appeared at the 

"Fer Gawd's sake, let me out," he 
whined, his voice dry and strained. 
"He'll murder me." 

"He will if he catches ye," answered 
Nat. " But ye brought the stuff that's 

"Whoop — he!" shouted 'Gene once 
again on the barn floor. 

Foley's face disappeared from the 
window, and he bolted in past the 

(To be continued) 




&*.^\m ■<;■.:■ &» 







%i '.' f ' 


** v^^T 4 ^. 







"It is not in the wharves or docks, not in the majesty of the hill toward the bay, not in the little 
avenue of summer cottages, that one feels the true New England character of the village; but in the 
streets of the old town. There is the sturdiness of the Pilgrim Fathers in the independence with 
which these take their course, untrammeled by any conventional rules, wandering along Curve 
Street, fitly named, as it follows the windings of the little Cove." — Elizabeth Moore Hallozvell. 




ne - 


"Any ordinary street can run straight; it is the intent of Curve Street to suit the fishermen and their 
work, and according as the wharves vary, so does it. A happy little street is Curve Street. In and 
out it runs, occasionally scattering by the road-side a group of yellow lilies free to all, with an extrava- 
gance that no sensible city street would think of showing; anon sobering down, as with respectful 
air it goes by the ancient Custom House — which they tell you was the first of its kind in America — 
sitting in dilapidated glory on the water's edge." — Ibid. 



"Many such little streets, a hundred yards or so in length, exist in this erratic town; but more honest 
than Arbor Street, there is one, the shortest of all, without so much as a name, and known only 
as the "Little Street off Arlington Street," which will tell its length to whomsoever stands at one 
end by giving a glimpse of the river at the other end, with fishing craft and stately schooners galore. 
This glimpse discloses all that an actual exploration would reveal, and makes experimental knowl- 
edge of the by-way needless; so, with an enjoyable memory of orchard slopes and shadows, and a 
quaint old urn at the corner filled with scarlet geraniums, the traveler turns away." — Ibid. 





"Pleasant it is to come upon Leonard Street, the home of hollyhocks and white gates, of stone walls 
and apple trees, and all the many things dear to the artist's heart. There, too. are the artists; for 
it is one of the summer amusements of this motherly old town to shelter in her arms these loving 
children who would portray her face; and along the broad expanse of Leonard Street may be seen, 
at any time of day and in almost any weather, the white umbrella and the triangular apparatus 
of the artist. — Ibid. 










Building Up New England 

IN the fall of 1911 the Boston 
Chamber of Commerce presented 
to the people of New England 
an Industrial and Educational 
Exposition, consisting of many of its 
manufactures and products. The Ex- 
hibition was very successful, having 
representative exhibits, a large attend- 
ance, and a definite advertising value 
to New England which has been shown 
by the great impulse given this section 
of the country by later developments. 
The possibilities thus opened have led 
several of the Chambers of Commerce 
of the New England cities to the 
belief that the time is ripe to again 
bring to the front the great question 
of New England supremacy, but this 
time on a much greater scale. With 
this end in view, the management has 
secured the endorsement and approval 
of the Chambers of Commerce, Boards 
of Trade, and Business Men's Asso- 
ciations of all New England, and with 
their co-operation will unite in one 
great comprehensive Exposition to 
be held in Mechanics Building, Boston, 
from October 4th to November 1st, 
inclusive, 1913. 

The general purposes of the Exposi- 
tion are: 

First: To promote manufacturing 
and commercial activity in New Eng- 

Second: To show the people of 
New England the methods and extent 
of our manufacturers and resources. 

Third: To attract the attention of 
the entire country to New England's 
large and varied industries. 

Fourth: To bring the employer and 
workman, merchant and buyer, into 
closer touch with the manufactory 
and its products. 

Fifth: To stimulate the people of 
New England, particularly the younger 
generation, to a realization of the 
dignity and possibilities of a trade, 
and thus promote industrial education. 

Many other groups of states have 
their Expositions, but until two years 

ago New England had kept still about 
her wonderful resources, and let the 
South and West boast of their great 
development, while we did nothing. 
It is time to wake up! This and every 
real New England exposition fur- 
nishes an opportunity for us to get 
together and let the world know that 
we are really as progressive as any 
section of this country. 

The scale of the exposition will be 
fully equal to that of other great 
Industrial Shows which have been 
held throughout the country. It 
will last four weeks, and the total 
attendance is estimated at 500,000. 
As far as possible it is the intention to 
have the exhibition made up of "work- 
ing exhibits," manufacturers produc- 
ing their goods on the premises. 
Representative New England manu- 
facturers will be invited to exhibit. 
There will be model exhibits of fac- 
tories whose business is too large to 
be reproduced in the space at command. 

Unusual exhibits bearing on indus- 
trial development have been suggested, 
such as used and unused waste power, 
modern devices for utilizing small 
streams, models of docks and shipping 
facilities, raised models of land avail- 
able for manufacturing sites, plans 
and models of waterways. Exhibits 
from technical schools, with pupils 
at work, educational exhibits by the 
State Departments, such as fish hatch- 
ing, weights and measures, milk trans- 
portation, — all these have been sug- 

A special feature will be made of the 
educational possibilities of the exposi- 
tion by interesting the schools through- 
out all six states in allowing the pupils 
to attend in a body. Manufacturers 
will be encouraged to send their most 
intelligent employees. The usual popu- 
lar features, such as good music, 
spectacular exhibits, and daily lectures 
will not be overlooked, for it is the 
intention that the exposition shall 
attract people of every taste. 




The manager is Mr. Chester I. 
Campbell, well known as manager of 
all the large New England expositions 
and who had charge of the exhibition 
two years ago. He is an active member 
of the Chamber, and is much interested 
in the purposes for which the exposi- 
tion is to be held. 

The manufacturer and business man 

is asked to keep in mind the fact that 
the main purpose of the exposition is 
a gigantic advertisement of the re- 
sources, development, and opportuni- 
ties of New England, and in order to 
make it a success and to have a com- 
plete showing of Ncn England's diver- 
sified industries his co-operation is 


<*jZ&&&^r OOM3t~iU*W &ZZVTf2»&* 


Grandmother's Cook Book 

By the New England Magazine Cooking Club 

S stated before, these rules 
have all been tried with success 
by New England housewives. 

Cheese Souffle 

Mix together two tablespoonfuls 
of butter, two tablespoonfuls of flour, 
a quarter of a teaspoonful of mustard, 
a quarter of a teaspoonful of cayenne 
pepper, one-half cup of milk and a 
quarter of a teaspoonful of salt. Add 
to this mixture the yolk of three eggs, 
well beaten, then add one-half a pound 
of grated cheese. Mix all well, then 
beat the whites of the eggs to a stiff 
froth and fold them into the mixture. 
Bake in a well buttered serving dish 
set in a pan of hot water. Serve at 

Peach Cake 

Sift together four even teaspoonfuls 
of baking powder, a pinch of salt and 
two cups of sifted flour. Into this 
work about four tablespoonfuls of 
shortening. Add sufficient milk to 
make a soft dough and spread in a 
well buttered pan. Pare six firm 
peaches and cut into halves and push 
these into the top of the dough so that 
the hollow of each half is uppermost. 
Sprinkle the top with sultana raisins, 
and considerable sugar. Bake about 
twenty-five minutes. May be served 
with butter or with sugar and cream, 
or with the following sauce. 

Peach Sauce 

Beat one-half cup of butter to a 
cream and add gradually one cup of 
sugar and beat thoroughly. Beat the 
white of an egg very light and whip 
into the mixture. Then add one-half 
a cup of peach pulp mixed with two 
tablespoonfuls of lemon juice and beat 
the whole. This is an excellent sauce 
for use on other desserts where peach 
flavoring may be desirable. 


Mix one-half cup of molasses one- 
half cup of sour milk. Add one tea- 
spoonful of soda, one teaspoonful of 
ginger and one-eighth of a teaspoonful 
of salt and one and one-half table- 
spoonfuls of melted butter. Mix this 
well and add one cup of flour. Bake 
about twenty-five minutes in a moder- 
ate oven. 

French Dressing 

This is by far a tastier dressing for 
fruit salad than mayonnaise, especially 
if the salad contains nuts. Six table- 
spoonfuls of olive oil, two tablespoon- 
fuls of lemon juice, one tablespoonful 
of sherry wine. Beat together and 
add one-half a teaspoonful of salt and 
one-half teaspoonful of paprika. Beat 
all well. This will be sufficient dressing 
for about three cups of salad material. 




Chocolate Sauce for Ice Cream 

Melt one cup of sugar in half a cup 
of boiling water. Cover it and let it 
boil about two minutes. Then un- 
cover and Jet boil until the syrup will 
thread when dropped from the spoon. 
Let cool and beat to a cream. Set 
over a dish of hot water, add a lea- 
spoonful of vanilla extract and three 
ounces of chocolate melted. Beat 
all until smooth and thin. 

Raisin Pie 

Seed, one cup of raisins. Stir into 
one cup of boiling water and let cook 
until the raisins are tender. Mix two 
level tablespoonfuls of flour with half 
a cup of sugar and stir into the raisins 
until the mixture thickens. Beat well 
two eggs and add one-half a cup of 
sugar, one-fourth teaspoonful of salt 
and the juice of one-half a lemon and 
add this to the raisin mixture. The 
whole must be allowed to cool before 
pouring into the crust or it will toughen 
the crust. Bake w r ith two crusts. 

A Good Cake Frosting 
Two cups of confectioners' sugar, 

one teaspoonful of lemon or orange 
juice and enough boilil ; 
make thick enough to spread. I :.- 
mixture must be well beaten. A little 
of the '/rated peel if ora 
may be added. Also, a choc 
frosting may be made from this rule. 
by adding melted chocolate and 
nilla instead of orange or lemon juice. 
'1 his is a delicto and will 

not harden too much. Cream i 
be used in place of the boiling 
■ er. 


One and one-half cups of fl 
two-thirds cup milk. I 


one-half teaspoonful 
spoonfuls butter. Prepare as for 
biscuit dough. l)<> n ut place 

the very soft dough in a buttered pan. 
Into the top of it press slices of apple 
as thick! lible. Then i\ rinkle 

the top with about three tablespoonfuls 
of sugar and one-third of a teaspoonful 
of cinnamon. Bake about twenty- 
five minutes. Serve with cream 
and sugar or with a caramel 




a ^ "?• --< 

V- ^ * 



f ' >**>*>